Rebirth of a Nation
by Knightmare Frame Razgriz
Summary: "We're surrounded. Outnumbered, outgunned, and more than likely gonna die before the night is out. But even if they are a mighty empire - there's a hundred thousand of them, and millions of us. This is our land, the land of our ancestors; so let's show them the indomitable spirit of the Japanese!" Completed as of 8/20/12.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Greetings, Code Geass fans of all ages and nationalities! Merry Christmas to all! (all who celebrate it that is.) This is your author Knightmare Frame Razgriz here with an all-new three act epic, focused on the Japan Liberation Front. Or rather, what would happen if they were even the least bit competent as the Japan Self-Defense Force is today. This follows the main three canon events involving the JLF, with a great many twists of varying degree. There will be no Geass involved here; there will be no insane miracles like blowing up oxygen tanks at the bottom of the ocean or water pockets in the middle of a mountain. In this story, there are no insane miracles; only pure ingenuity, effective strategy, real-time tactics, and battlefield conditions, i.e. Murphy's Law is THE law. **

**Because they surrendered so early into the war after the death of Genbu Kururugi, the JLF maintains the majority of the surviving inventory of the JSDF, as well as equipment stolen from Britannian forces and purchased on the black market. I may or may not expand this into a JLF-focused AU of CG, but don't hold your breath; I have The Demons of the Mist that I should probably be working on right now.**

**This story will consist of three "Acts", primary segments, with smaller "Stages" contained within, which are the individual chapters. There will also be technical and/or organizational profiles at the end of each stage. And just an off-handed thing: there's gonna be a lot of scene changes. I mean like A LOT. You've been warned, so you just gotta learn to keep track of it.**

**Now, without further delay…**

_**Let the games begin.**_

_**Act 1 – Kawaguchi  
>Stage 1 – "Why can we never come here on vacation?"<strong>_

**September 17****th****, 2017 ATB  
>Lake Kawaguchi Resort<br>2116 hours **

It was a suicide mission, and the Japan Liberation Front soldiers all knew it. All except for their delusional commander, Lieutenant Colonel Kusakabe.

There had been bets running on when Kusakabe would crack for a little over two years now, and the general consensus was that he had finally snapped the moment this convoluted massacre-in-the-making was even conceived. It was done totally without the sanction of the commander-in-chief, General Katase, and was even condemned to failure by the famous Tohdoh of Miracles himself. And just to spite them (or at least this was the unanimous decision,) the colonel had made off with but three rifle platoons and minimal supplies, and seized the resort to take the assembled Sakuradite Allocation Conference officials hostage.

All sixty men were sure of their deaths in this incident, if not by Britannia then by their own comrades if, by some miracle, they made it out alive. At some point during this operation, in either conception or execution (terrible morbid pun,) every man present had contemplated _Seppuku_, honorable suicide, to spare themselves the humiliation of execution by firing squads.

But, they all had decided, if they were going to die, they were going to do it with loaded weapons in their hands. And if they lived, each of them would take their turns at Kusakabe for dragging them into this everlasting shame.

So at the moment, the three platoon commanders, all of the rank of First Lieutenant, along with their Platoon Sergeants, were gathered in a suite discussing their plans to seize the operation and get out with the dignity, or at the very least their lives.

At the current, the apparent senior lieutenant, a former platoon leader in the defunct Japan Special Forces Group (SFG), was laying out the framework for the seizure and evacuation through his experience.

"… And so the first step would obviously be securing the tunnel by essentially blocking it or demolishing it," one of the sergeants summed it up, earning a nod from the lieutenant.

"_Hai_. Even with the Raikou cannon, we cannot guarantee the security of the facility if the Britannians start throwing Knightmares at us in waves."

"So could we potentially use the cannon to do the job?" another sergeant asked. The three officers, in unison, clasped their hands beneath their chins in the same thinking pose.

"If we loaded a shell with remote demolitions, we could send the round partway into the concrete of the tunnel ceiling and have enough time to pull back before detonation," one of them threw in his idea.

"Yes, but the tunnel is three and a half feet of solid concrete; would plastic explosive be enough?"

"If we didn't penetrate it, and even if we did, we would be using our entire stock of explosives."

"We brought four Type 84RR recoilless rifles, didn't we? Would we be able to use HE rounds to chip away at it before firing?"

Stewing on this, the SFG lieutenant stood up and walked over to the sofa, retrieving a laptop from his bag. "I can input the data into an engineering simulation program, but it will take at least half an hour to process." They all knew what this meant: thirty more minutes for Britannia to take action.

**2132 hours  
>Britannian Encampment, Army Special Forces Subdivision <strong>

On the banks of the river sat the hastily-erected Britannian military encampment, where various branches of the service and their sections sat preparing their individual operations proposals for insertion into the resort.

The Army was the most fragmented, as the air services, separate ground divisions, and a single maritime-operations branch were preparing their ideas.

In the designated staging area of the Army Special Forces, the Green Beret commissioned officer (CO) staff was preparing its plan of action.

"Really wish we could just send in Delta and be done with it," one captain griped, earning him a smack on the back of the head by a major.

"That's for suggesting that our success depends on the anti-terrorism specialists," the man grumbled. He turned to face the rest of the officers. "Unfortunately, the Tokyo branch of the 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment Delta (SFOD Delta) is occupied with an extended operation in Nagasaki, hence their inability to offer their expertise at this time." As much as the SF regulars disliked the specialists, they were already wishing that the men were present for this op. It would've made life so much easier.

"So, do we have any fully-assembled ideas?" the Major pressed, since he was apparently drawing a blank. After a moment of silence, one of the dedicated tacticians of the unit stepped forward.

"Sir, I'm afraid we're too short on Intel to offer any sort of concrete solution at this time," the man said resolutely. "We hardly have any idea of what we're facing here; we have no numbers, no equipment identification, and very little time to work with."

The Major sighed tiredly, having known the answer already. "Well I guess we're going with the two basics; airborne and aquatic insertion." Just when he was about to signal the startup, a radio operator shot down his solution.

"Major, I'm afraid that the Army Airborne division and the Navy SEALs have already taken up both solutions."

Everyone sighed in defeat. "I guess we're spectating on this, then."

**2135 hours  
>Britannian Royal Navy SEAL detachment<strong>

At the same time that the Special Forces realized that they had reached their conclusion too late, two Navy SEAL fire teams of four men apiece were preparing to make an aquatic approach. Each man was dressed in a standard-issue wetsuit and equipped with a rebreather and mask, with their combat equipment and ammunition sealed up in water-tight packs. Each held a Heckler & Koch MP5 suppressed submachine gun at the ready, along with an externally-suppressed USP .45 ACP pistol and two spare clips for each gun in the belts.

"Alright," the mission commander addressed both teams, "Fire Team Alpha will approach from beneath the south bridge and then insert at Waypoint Charlie, upon which they will clear any hostiles and proceed in through a side entrance. Fire Team Bravo will approach from around the back, near the docks, and clear any hostiles on that side before clearing the rear of the building and linking up with Alpha. Any questions?" Seeing shaking heads, he gave a stiff salute. "Godspeed to you all, then; stay safe, gentlemen." The SEALs nodded and made their way down towards the sandy shores, where they lumbered into the calm water up to their waists before diving in and disappearing.

**2145 hours  
>beneath the main bridge<strong>

Unfortunately for the Britannians, the Japanese commanders (or at least the platoon leaders) had anticipated a water approach, and stationed a pair of former SFG operators on a concrete ledge beneath the closest section of the bridge to the resort, effectively hiding them in the shadows of the bridge.

Both were highly professional, dressed in urban camouflage uniforms and black balaclavas, laying prone on the platform with thermal goggles scanning the waters.

For five minutes, both had been watching Fire Team Alpha stealthily gliding towards the shoreline, the SEALs only pausing and coming up every twenty seconds to watch for soldiers. Clearly they were only utilizing shoddy night vision functions in their weapon scopes, as the pair of gunners had yet to be spotted.

The shooter of the pair slammed a round into the chamber of his Remington M24 sniper rifle, staring at the approaching enemy through a thermal scope, saddened by the concept of killing fellow special operators. Just as he made for the trigger, his partner placed a hand over the mechanism and shook his head, gesturing towards the Sumitomo Type 62 general-purpose machine gun by his side. The sniper paused for a moment before nodding, both agreeing to at least let the SEALs know what his them. Besides, due to the cover from the bridge, no one would be able to spot the pair's position, even if they heard the chatter of the gun.

Sighing deeply in sorrow, the sniper put aside his rifle and watched as his partner moved the MG into position.

The gunner intentionally dismissed the standard silent loading techniques, instead pulling back on the action loudly, internally wincing as the would-be infiltrators' heads snapped towards them and froze. He slammed the round forward into the chamber and moved his finger to the trigger, his partner bowing his head in shame as the 7.62 rounds went flying at the group. The navy men took one last desperate attempt to swim towards shore, but only succeeded in increasing their dead bodies' momentum towards the bridge support as the bullets tore into them. Putting out a full hundred-round belt to ensure no survivor's agony of slow death, the gun clicked as the attaché ammo box went dry.

Without a word, the sniper moved towards the steel rungs imbedded in the concrete, climbing down and towards where the dead bodies had floated and hit the side. He began the process of grabbing each SEAL's body from the water and hauling it up to where his partner laid them side-by-side on the platform. Carefully crossing each man's arms over his chest, the pair bowed their heads and then gave a military salute in respect to the dead, before retrieving all weapons and equipment. The dead had no use for guns and explosives, after all.

**Same time  
>North Side quay <strong>

The docks on the opposite side where filled with yachts and security vessels in varying sizes, most of them owned by the individuals now held hostage inside.

Despite what most might anticipate, there was almost an entire platoon watching this area; and they had all received the message from their comrades about the aquatic specialists.

At the present, there were fourteen Howa Type 89 assault rifles, four Type 62 machine guns, and two M24 sniper rifles scanning the waters from concealed positions. In addition, one soldier was also positioned at a third floor window, operating a Howa Type 96 40mm grenade launcher.

Eight of the men were out in the open, playing the bait, while the others were hidden on the decks of yachts and behind planters near the doors. The snipers were both at second floor windows, their rifles propped on the edge as their scopes swept over the dark waters.

Down on the dock, one man imperceptibly turned his head slightly, and flinched as he spotted his mark: a slight ripple on the surface. He turned back and glanced at this comrade, placing four fingers across the guard of his trigger; _four of them._

The other man nodded slightly and started spreading the word, wordlessly of course. Eventually, the signal was finally out, and everyone tensed as the four men underwater moved beneath the dock. Solemnly, the eight on the docks gathered around the spot and pointed their rifles straight down, looking to their concealed troops off to the sides to ensure that the enemies hadn't moved. Receiving confirmation, they all bowed their heads and pulled the triggers. Once all of their first clips were empty, they moved off to the sides and retrieved the floating dead, confiscating their weapons and equipment. The platoon sergeant begrudgingly made the call in to Kusakabe to report their success. All in audible range scowled as they heard the man's boisterous laughter.

**2200 hours  
>Britannian G-1 Mobile Command Center<strong>

All assembled staff on deck glanced sharply at the main display screen of the command center as it came to life, with a camera centered on Lieutenant Colonel Kusakabe.

"_To the Britannian Military: your pathetic attempt at an aquatic infiltration has failed miserably," _the Japanese man gloated, the camera switching over to the two separate pictures of the dead and disarmed SEALs lined up in a row on the docks. However, Cornelia noticed, each of the Japanese soldiers in the picture had their heads bow and eyes closed, their caps held up to their right shoulders in a respectful salute to the fallen. Her curiosity was belayed as the picture switched back to Kusakabe.

"_Tread carefully, Britannian scum; I hold the life of your people in my hands, and all it takes is one order for them all to die." _The screen went black as the transmission ended. The purple-haired princess clenched her fists and teeth at the threat.

'_All of those innocent people…' _she thought worriedly, before turning to the communications officer.

"Inform Airborne that their operation is approved; get in there!"

**2230 hours  
>UH-60 Blackhawk <strong>

Three of the helicopters flew in formation, each carrying four soldiers apiece; all of whom were armed to the teeth, by special request of Princess Cornelia.

These twelve elites were the security party; the main force would be leaping from a C-5 Galaxy at 30,000 feet and performing High-Altitude, High-Opening (HAHO) jumps. Once on the roof, they would storm Kusakabe's penthouse headquarters and work their way down, eliminating everything between them and the hostages.

Flicking off the safeties of their respective weapons, ten M4 carbines and two M249 light machine guns, the soldiers prepared to fast-rope down onto the rooftop while the Blackhawks' mounted M134 miniguns shredded any opposition.

**Same time  
>Resort Rooftop<strong>

On the rooftop, a squad sat in varying levels of disguise as the helicopters approached. Two of the men were former SFG operators; there was about a full platoon's worth of them in this op. Both of them carried Type 91 MANPAD Surface-To-Air missile launchers, the Japanese version of Britannia's Stinger missile platform. However, the missiles weren't for all of the helicopters.

When the first two choppers were within fifty yards of the roof, moving about fifteen feet above the surface due to the lack of noticeable opposition, the Japanese soldiers struck. As the Britannian soldiers began fast-roping down, their weapons slung to the sides during the procedure, the eight riflemen moved in on the spot and open fired, killing the minigun operators and grabbing the enemy riflemen straight off their ropes, tossing them onto the graveled rooftop and knocking them out. Through the procedure, the third helicopter had been circling, waiting for its opportunity to move in. One of the SFG troops took up his launcher and fired, hitting the helo's tail rotor and sending it spiral towards the water near the jetty. The seven men on the downed craft would be taken prisoner and given medical attention by the platoon below. Luckily for the Britannians, all would survive.

Apparently seeing the AA missile launchers, the pilots and co-pilots of the remaining two Blackhawks chose to set the craft down on the rooftop, stepping out the doors with their hands raised. They were quickly secured and put down beside the others, the entire group being secured by flex-cuffs taken out of the SEALs' kits. The rest of the platoon poured onto the roof and brought the newly-made POWs to their feet, hauling them off downstairs to be put near the other hostages.

On a barely passing thought, the other missile-bearer pointed his launcher skyward and locked onto the passing C-5, the missile flying up and slamming into the plane's wing, sending the cargo aircraft limping off back towards the base it came from.

**2235 hours  
>Platoon Leaders' Suite<strong>

"By all accounts, I think we're doing better than most countries' Special Forces right now," the SFG lieutenant mused idly. The other two nodded with slight smirks, clearly impressed with their soldiers' performance. They turned back to the laptop screen, which they had been using to run through demolition and escape scenarios for the last hour.

"So we have the demolition mostly figured out; what about escape?" the lieutenant of the platoon on the docks, coincidentally from the Maritime Self-Defense Force (JMSDF), asked.

"Fortify the position? Figure out what to do with those two helicopters?" the other lieutenant of the rooftop platoon, from the Air Self-Defense Force (JASDF) shrugged. The SFG lieutenant turned the laptop back towards himself and opened up a video chat program.

"Right now, at this temporary pause," he started, turning the screen slightly to let the other two see, "We solidify our position in this debacle."

The Japanese flag appeared on the screen, followed by the calm visage of Colonel Kyoshiro Tohdoh.

**Same time  
>Narita Mountains<br>Japan Liberation Front Headquarters **

The JLF leadership was assembled in the Eastern-style meeting room, basically standing around and bickering loudly as Tohdoh sat in the center of the assembly, sitting in the _Seiza _position on a tatami mat and trying to block out the white noise.

It was suddenly silent, and Tohdoh was about to praise Kami when a new round of indignant and angry shouting came up. He looked towards the source of the disturbance, the large screen on the opposite side of the room. There were only two words in place of the usual detailed location & caller ID:

Lake Kawaguchi.

"I swear, if it's that idiot Kusakabe calling to beg for support…" the miracle maker growled lowly. His less-than-friendly thoughts were stalled as the image came in as three soldiers, Lieutenants by the bars on their shoulders, assembled in what looked to be a middle-class hotel suite. The man in the center, an SFG man by the tab on his shoulder, looked to be the leader of the trio. He had short brown hair in a style like Tohdoh's; shining blue eyes, and was currently smirking confidently.

"_Greetings, assorted superiors and comrades of the JLF,"_ the man greeted cheerily. _"You may know me as Ishitora Misato, First Lieutenant of SFG First Company, Fourth Urban Assault Platoon."_ There were a few hums of recognition. _"Currently, I and my two comrades are plotting to kill Lieutenant Colonel Kusakabe and get out of this hellhole in one piece; care to lend a hand?"_

A few couldn't help but gape at the blunt admission and request, but Tohdoh simply started chuckling, before it grew into a loud laugh.

"Before we even consider offering assistance, Lieutenant; what have you to report?"

All three men on screen seemed to grin, visibly radiating with pride.

"_Colonel, at last count we have killed two Britannian Navy SEAL teams, downed a Blackhawk helicopter and a C-5 Galaxy, and captured fourteen soldiers and six pilots… In the span of an hour."_ More gaping by the officers in the room. Tohdoh chuckled again.

"Alright, what assistance might we be able to offer you?"

"_Currently, we need seventeen kilograms of demolition-grade explosives, three heavy assault __Burai__, and five Type 90 Main Battle Tanks."_

He tossed Ishitora a suspicious look. "And that's all?"

"_Well, some more ammunition and supplies wouldn't be unwelcome."_ The colonel nodded in satisfaction.

"Very well, have you secured a method of delivery?" Within seconds of this question, a digital map of Lake Kawaguchi and the surrounding area appeared on the screen beside Ishitora. He pointed to a spot on the north side of the lake, the only side without a bridge.

"_I have sent out a squad that has secured a section of a civilian wharf; move in silently, and we'll create a distraction to draw attention to the front side of the area while we move one of the boats from the marina here over to retrieve the cargo. Actually, you have aircraft right? Can you bring over the Knightmares and explosives in VTOLs and just drive the tanks up?"_

"We did capture a number of Knightmare VTOL transport craft in our recent raid…" an officer in the back of the room offered.

"And don't we have a few landing craft available?" another inquired.

"Well, can't we just seal the tanks with oxygen apparatus and drive them across the bottom of the lake? I'm pretty sure the bottom is bedrock…"

A number nodded in concurrence, and one used a computer to check the theory. "Very well lieutenant, the Knightmares and demolitions will be delivered under the cover of your forces. You lose the flight, you lose your supplies. Also, a number of tanks are currently being rigged for underwater travel and are being loaded in transports to be delivered to the specified location."

Ishitora bowed respectfully. _"Your generosity will not soon be forgotten by myself or my troops."_ The link cut out just as gunfire sounded outside the window behind the three men.

**2245 hours  
>Lieutenants' Suite<strong>

The transmission cut out just as muzzle flashes were seen out of the window. The Air Force lieutenant fumbled around for his headset.

"Sergeant, what the hell is going on out there?"

"_It's the Britannians, sir! They're trying to attack with Knightmares across the bridge!"_

"Dammit…" the Navy officer cursed, "To think that Cornelia would attempt something so foolhardy and bold…" There was a buzz from Ishitora's radio. He picked it up and keyed the mike, already knowing who it was.

"What can I do for you, Colonel Kusakabe?" he asked coldly. The tone apparently didn't translate through the line, because Kusakabe responded in his normal outraged voice.

"_My problem, Lieutenant, is that I have three squads of BRITANNIAN SUTHERLANDS ON MY DOORSTEP!" _he shouted loudly, forcing the three men to hold the radio away from their ears. _"I want those bastards dealt with, and then we must begin sacrificing the hostages in order to punish those impudent fools for their idiocy!" _

The three sighed in harmony; they had hoped it wouldn't come to this. "Understood Colonel, we'll address the issue swiftly."

"_See to it that you do, or you'll be the next ones off that roof!" _the line clicked, and Ishitora nearly crushed the handheld in an iron grip.

"That fat bastard has the gall to threaten _us_, while he sits in that fucking penthouse and thinks he can give orders?" he hissed under his breath. Slamming the radio back down onto the table, he retrieved his headset.

"Sergeant Kojiro, please deal with those Knightmares quickly… And then move a few men to the ground behind the cover of the foliage. We wouldn't want anyone falling to their death, now would we?"

"_We certainly wouldn't like that, sir," _the man agreed evenly. Apparently he had already caught wind of the Lieutenant Colonel's new order, and liked it about as much as his superiors.

**2252 hours  
>Resort South Side<strong>

SecondPlatoon was quickly dispatched to the main bridge, all carrying anti-material or crew-served weapons. One fire team (half of a squad, typically five men) was charged with manning two of their only four Type 84RR recoilless rifles, while the other team shot M82 Anti-Material rifles. Four men from the remaining squad manned two Sumitomo M2 12.7mm heavy machine guns, two men per gun, and three others carried Type 01 Light Anti-Tank Missiles (LMAT; light missile, anti-tank) with tandem-charged 120mm HEAT rounds; while the remaining three manned a Type 87 tripod-mounted Anti-Tank Missile launcher.

Sergeant Kojiro Takeshi licked his dry lips nervously as he hefted a Type 01 missile launcher, trying to spot the Sutherlands in the darkness. He turned to the recoilless rifle crews.

"Mizore, Hayate, put a few Starlight shells in the sky!" The pair complied, and a volley of shells flew skyward before bursting into bright white lights. The bridge was illuminated, showing the twelve Knightmares sitting in the center of the bridge; apparently trying to sneak in closer before open-firing after their initial bursts.

Rifle shots rang out as .50 caliber AP rounds peppered the first four, a few finding purchase inside chinks in armor, and one shattering an exposed Factsphere. The blinded one's partner tried to raise his 20mm rifle, but found that a bullet had snapped the arm's hydraulic cables.

"_**You Eleven sons of bitches!" **_one of the Britannian pilots cursed over his speakers, charging forward recklessly, the entirety of his assault team following along.

"Shit, they're all charging!" a machine gunner shouted in panic, albeit lessened when the blinded frame swerved out of control and smashed into one of his comrades. "Well, that's two down…" the same man sweat-dropped.

Kojiro turned to the RR gunners. "Use Area-Defense Munitions! USE THE DAMN FLECHETTE ROUNDS!" he shouted, turning back to fire along with his comrades. All three of their missiles crashed into the same Sutherland, utterly annihilating the machine in a brilliant fireball. The others simply charged on through the smoke, now approaching firing range.

The gunners complied and high-velocity shrapnel was soon flying into the attackers. Although there was very little visual effect, the shards of lead were slicing up joint components and lodging into Factspheres.

12.7mm Armor-Piercing BMG (Browning Machine Gun) rounds were soon added to the mix, creating a very deadly maelstrom of flying lead. However, eight still remained, and they entered firing range.

A Sutherland opened up with its assault rifle, shattering one of the recoilless rifles with its fire and killing one of the operators. Another Knightmare also fired into the ranks of the snipers, shredding three of the five into bloody scraps and showering their still-living comrades.

The Type 87 responded in kind, firing its guided 120mm tandem HEAT missiles into both of the previously-offending machines. Down to half of their original numbers, the remaining six Sutherlands reformed into a single line and made a final fanatical charge.

"Mizore, switch to HEDP rounds!" Kojiro called out over the roar.

"But those are bunker buster rounds, not Knightmare-killers!" the gunner protested, "They'll damage the bridge!"

"I don't give a damn if they DESTROY the bridge, just DO IT!"

The man reluctantly complied and loaded the gun with High-Explosive, Dual-Purpose (HEDP) ammunition, and fired at the charging machines. Although it didn't hit them directly, the rounds created a small crater in the bridge in front of the Knightmares, causing three of them to be suddenly thrown off track and crash violently, only to be further battered by the avenging defenders.

The last three finally recognized their task as the suicide mission it was, and took a few final shots before starting to fall back. Of course, this final action was only met with all three being shot in the back and killed instantly, and the skirmish was finally over.

There was no cheering.

There was no slapping of backs or bear-hugging or hand-shaking.

There was only silence in Second Platoon.

Silence for their dead commander and dear friend, Kojiro Takeshi.

**2310 hours  
>Platoon Leaders' Suite<strong>

"I was never one for superstition…" one of the lieutenants intoned, his hands folded beneath his chin as he sat with a solemn visage, "But I think this might mark the beginning of the end."

"What do you mean by superstition?" another inquired.

"There's an old urban myth among the Special Forces," Ishitora began, "See, back at the beginning of the Second Pacific War, six brothers from the Takeshi Clan joined the Ground Self-Defense Force; each was involved in a major battle of the invasion." He leaned back in his chair and set his boots on the table, sighing. "In each of the engagements, everything went fine until one of the Takeshi brothers was killed. Shortly after their deaths, the fight would begin to turn in Britannia's favor. And at the only engagement where we actually achieved victory, Itsukushima, not one of the brothers was present."

"Ever since the end of the war, it has been said that whenever a member of the Takeshi Clan is killed in combat, the battle will turn completely around," the first man finished, walking over and plopping down on the sitting area sofa. "However, with the death of Kojiro, there are no more living members of the clan in any branch of the service or any of the resistance groups."

"So now everyone believes that this marks the end of the Japanese, with the death of one clan involved in a crazy superstition?" the last man questioned in surprise. Both of his comrades shrugged.

"We don't have a sure idea of what it means; for all we know, it could mean that our misfortune is finally over," Ishitora offered up semi-hopefully. Seeing the still-worried looks of his comrades, he groaned tiredly and walked over to the other couch. "Wake me up when you two develop some optimism… or a plan to get rid of Kusakabe."

**2330 hours  
>Britannian G-1 Mobile Command Center<strong>

"No…" Cornelia growled, as she saw that infernal terrorist Kusakabe's face appear on the screen once more.

"_Once again, Britannians, your efforts were all in vain; and you have succeeded in trying my patience _extensively_," _the Japanese colonel rumbled lowly, a scowl crossing his face. _"Therefore, for every thirty minutes that our demands are not met, one hostage will be sacrificed." _The camera switched over to one of a Britannian news network's trucks, no doubt acquired through amateur hacking. The picture zoomed to show two solemn Japanese soldiers in full combat gear holding a blindfolded Britannian man between them, standing at the edge of the roof.

"Don't do it, damn you… Don't you dare, you bastards!" the purple-haired viceroy hissed vehemently, as the pair whispered something to the man and peered over the edge. Seemingly nodding in self-preparation, one of the men backed off, while the other stood behind the hostage and shoved him over the edge.

"**NOOOOOO!" **

The view switched back to the penthouse, where the sadistic colonel was now smirking viscously.

"_Time is running out, Britannia… Act while you still have the chance." _The picture from the penthouse blinked out abruptly, but it was replaced quickly by a new video, of the man falling to his death… or so everyone thought.

The angle was from behind the trees where the man fell, probably from a handheld camcorder or a smart phone. The man kept falling… and slowly falling… seemingly even more slowly. Within a few seconds, he had slowed to barely a crawl, and by the time he reached three feet off the ground, he had stopped altogether.

Two soldiers came into the shot and removed the man's suit coat, under which was a harness of some type, connected to a nigh-invisible rappel wire. After getting him out of the harness, he was ushered out by another pair of soldiers, whereupon the camera zoomed in on the original two. Both were lieutenants by the bars on their shoulders. In the shot and just outside of the base, a light drizzle started, and dark clouds drifted over the area. Thunder cracked and lightning flashed off to the side, lighting up the picture.

One of the officers removed his helmet and black balaclava, revealing his short brown hair and blue eyes.

"_Greetings, Britannia; I am First Lieutenant Ishitora Misato of the former Japan Self-Defense Force Special Operations Group, now of the Japan Liberation Front. What Lieutenant Colonel Kusakabe carries out tonight is quite frankly disgusting, and in no way sanctioned by my superiors or comrades. He will be dealt with shortly. However…" _the man paused and his eyes hardened. _"Your soldiers have killed many of my brothers in arms tonight, and for that, we will continue our fight. For the honor of ourselves, our families, our people and our country… we will fight on. Britannia, you will not ever be forgiven for your sins. And for every drop of our peoples' blood shed by your country, you will pay for your crimes a thousand fold. Perhaps not now… but you Darwinist genocidal maniacs will pay. Japan will have her Divine Retribution… And with the death of Gunnery Sergeant Kojiro Takeshi tonight, the time for us to take our vengeance has begun."_

It was a foreboding speech; this much was quite evident. And how the men managed to send this message out to the rest of the world without alerting Kusakabe was also a mystery… However, there may not have even been much life left in the man to be alerted.

**2345 hours  
>Penthouse Command Center<strong>

Kusakabe wasn't mad; he wasn't angry; no, the colonel was downright _furious_. Of course, he was tied to a chair and being held over the edge of the windowsill, so he wasn't really in much of a position for anger.

He spied a corporal filming with a camcorder. "THIS IS PHOTOGRAPHED **TREASON!** I DEMAND TO BE RELEASED **THIS INSTANT!**"

Ishitora made a quiet tutting noise, as though berating a misbehaving child. "Now, now, Colonel, be silent and compliant; your death is currently being broadcasted worldwide, after all." He suddenly grew serious and approached the thoroughly-bound officer, setting a combat boot on the edge of the teetering chair as he reached forward ripped the ceremonial katana from Kusakabe's belt. "I suppose death by your own sword is symbolically tantamount to _Seppuku, _no?" He drew the sword from its sheath in one fluid motion and placed the tip at the man's forehead.

"Lieutenant Colonel Kusakabe, you have shamed your country, your military, and your subordinates, all in barely three hours; your time of judgment has come." He stopped and closed his eyes softly, listening carefully as a low breeze blew by. His eyes snapped open, burning with a divine righteousness.

"The verdict has been reached, and I will deliver your sentence." The tip of the katana moved to the center of the man's stomach. "May the _Shinigami_deliver your damned soul to the deepest depths of _Makai_."

The sword was plunged into Kusakabe's stomach up half the length of the blade, and Ishitora's boot shoved the chair out of the window. The sword was smoothly removed as the body and chair flew from the top floor window, in plain view of nearly every media network in Area Eleven. However, this time, there was no harness.

**Same Time  
>Britannian Command Center<strong>

"Good riddance," the Viceroy declared resolutely. She continued watching as the lieutenant raised the bloodied sword to the sky dramatically, and a flash of lightning came from the background. "Lightning…?"

"Your Highness, it appears there is a freak tropical storm brewing; it may cause severe rainfall and mild flooding for the next day or so," a technician reported. The new report elicited a sigh from the princess.

"Secure all equipment, have all excess personnel evacuated back to their normal stations; leave only the necessary units to maintain a cordon around the lake. It appears that our new assault will be forestalled."

"With all due respect, Your Highness, a new assault? Didn't these people just publically denounce and execute their tyrant leader? Doesn't that warrant some mercy, or perhaps even a pardon? They all seem like honorable and professional soldiers."

Cornelia just shook her head. "That's the problem; the professionals are always the most dangerous ones. They cannot be allowed to live." With this final declaration, she turned with a sweep of her white cape and walked out of the room. "I'll be in my quarters; the rest of you should get some rest. No one is going to be carrying out military operations in weather like this."

**2400 hours; Midnight  
>Resort Ballroom<strong>

The princess was correct; no one had even entertained the notion of operating in these conditions. So instead, the JLF troops had released the hostages into the ballroom, which was lined with food and drink, under the condition that any who attempted to escape would be detained and put back in the storage room.

"Damn xenophobic Brits…" a Master Sergeant grumbled to his partner, who was standing on the opposite side of the doorway holding a Type 89 rifle, and sweeping his gaze over the ballroom floor. "We let 'em out to eat and drink, and all they're doing is huddling up and hiding from us."

"They've believed in their own ethnic superiority for so damn long, they fear the idea of men of another country having power over them for once," the other man elaborated intelligently.

"So should we just move outside and let the guys in the security booths watch the floor?"

"Nah; the biggest risk in a hostage situation: the hostages banding together and committing a mass suicide."

"Bah, they have too much fucking pride for suicide."

"There's still the scared little high school girls over in that corner looking like they've shit themselves at least five times," they all shared a chuckle.

"Well I don't know about you guys, but I'm gonna snag some food," the Master Sergeant finally decided, standing from his crouch and approaching a table.

"Get me a sirloin and some sake while you're at it!" one of his comrades called after him.

"Get it yourself!" he called back grouchily, snatching up a bottle of said alcohol and taking a short sip. However, in this action, he brought himself a little too close to the school girls.

"A-an ELEVEN!" one of them quietly shrieked, panicking and huddling closer to the corner. The other two girls moved in front of her to hide her from sight as they stared up at the NCO in fear. The man sighed.

"Look, you little runts, I'm only going to say this once: we're **JAPANESE**. East Asian, Japanese, or even by rank, that's how I'd suggest you address myself and the rest of my buddies. We are not numbers; we are human beings, and none of your emperor's Darwinist bullshit is going to change that," he announced, softly yet resolutely. The three girls looked utterly bewildered. However, before the man could say anything else, a sergeant walked over briskly and saluted.

"Sir, it appears that you have been drafted as a part of the team to retrieve the tanks, being that you were part of an aquatic infantry unit in the JMSDF," the newcomer explained, not even sparing the cowering girls a glance. The warrant officer nodded.

"I suppose it can't be helped," he sighed, massaging his forehead tiredly. "And here I haven't even raided the leftover appetizers yet."

"I'll be sure to save you a plate, sir," the sergeant replied wryly with a grin.

"I'm holding you to that, Ken," he grinned back as he made for the doors, grabbing a heavy raincoat offered by one of his friends at the door.

"Try not to drown before you get to the marina, Takao-sempai!" Ken called out as the doors shut. A loud grumble was heard before it faded along with Takao's footsteps. Ken chuckled and walked off towards another table, leaving the four girls totally confused; two at their continued presence of life, and one at the friendly and care-free attitudes of the Eleven soldiers.

**Profile – Japan Ground Self-Defense Force**

**Organization (through company)  
><strong>Fireteam: Standard five men - corporal  
>Squad: Two fireteams (ten men) - sergeant<br>Platoon: Two to Three squads (20-30 men) – NCO  
>Company: Three to Four platoons (60-120 men) – lieutenant<p>

**Standard Weaponry (Infantry – single-man usable, portable)  
><strong>Assault Rifle: Howa Type 89 (5.56x45mm NATO)  
>Sidearm: Sig-Sauer P220 (9mm)<br>Machine Gun: Sumitomo NTK 62 (7.62x51mm NATO)  
>Sniper Rifle: Remington M24 (7.62x51mm NATO), Izmash Dragunov SVD (7.62x54mmR)<br>Anti-Tank: Type 01 LMAT (120mm tandem-charged HEAT)  
>Anti-Air: Toshiba Type 91 MANPAD (80mm SAM, heat-seeking)<p>

**Part 2 will be released some time either during or after New Years.**

**Merry Christmas from Knightmare Frame Razgriz!  
><strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Welcome back. As you most likely know, Company C lead by Ishitora Misato isn't your average group of CG-canonical, ex-military terrorists. Well, we're covering the JGSDF and primarily the JSDF for this act; Act 2 at Narita will most likely involve the Air Self-Defense Force as well as the GSDF, and Act 3 at Yokosuka Port will obviously focus on the Maritime Self-Defense Force. In the meantime, things will get a bit more exciting soon enough. Also, I now realize my blunder in posting the first chapter on Christmas Eve, when nobody was on and everybody else had the same idea. So, you're getting part 2 a bit sooner than New Years. Congrats, and enjoy.**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Act 1 – Kawaguchi<br>Stage 2 – "Pack It In, Boys"**_

**September 18****th****, 2017  
>0105 hours<br>Resort Marina**

"How the hell are those tanks supposed to get in through all this shit?" Takao shouted over the pounding rain, as he managed to scramble up a gangway and into the sitting area of a rather expensive yacht. Six of the other seven men present echoed the question.

The seventh man, a sergeant major, plopped down onto the large sofa and sighed wearily.

"We already sent over a team of divers to show them the way, but we still have no idea how they're going to pull this off without drowning." He was answered when a man from the diving team pulled himself up over the railing, shivering harshly as his breath came in deep gasps. He stripped off his diving suit in record time and replaced it with a uniform sitting on a deck chair before tossing the suit to Takao, now laughing and shaking his head.

"You're up, Sempai; they're halfway across," the man grinned at his unfortunate senior. The warrant officer sighed and snatched the suit away, putting it on and grabbing a rebreather from the deck.

"When I get back here, you're helping those tanks out of the water, Sergeant," he addressed the sergeant major. The man simply offered a mock-salute and disappeared into the yacht's quarters. Takao grumbled and leapt overboard, diving under and scanning the water for the directional markers planted by the forward party. He spotted the bright red markers and followed them for a few hundred meters, until he met up with five tanks trundling along on the rocky bottom of the lake. A full was squad flanked each side of the metal monsters as they negotiated the rocks and occasional sand pits, but they were making good time overall. Swimming in front of the lead tank, he went along until they had once more reached the docks.

A set of ballast tanks on the backs of the tanks were filled with air, and with minor assistance from their escorts, the machines breached the surface of the water and made for the single boat launch off to the side of the marina.

After a few minutes of maneuvering, the Type 90s were able to move into the cover of the underground parking garage for guests, whereupon the hatch and gun barrel seals were removed, and the ballast tanks were either repurposed as storage containers or appropriated for rainwater collection (a countermeasure against any attempts at poisoning the water supply.) The commander of the tank mission, a Second Lieutenant, jumped from the hatch of the foremost tank, while bore a pitch-black ox painted on the side of the turret. Ishitora greeted him heartily.

"Well, if it isn't Lieutenant Saburo Kamachi of the 7th Armored. Old Katase must have _some _semblance of faith in our efforts, I suppose?" he started off cheerfully. Kamachi, being just as off as Ishitora, grinned and scratched the back of his head bashfully.

"Oh come on now, I'm just one man… And I'm only a commander at that; the rest of the crew makes it all happen."

"You're too modest, Lieutenant; come, we have preparations to make." The pair made their way to elevator up to the eighteenth floor, where the lieutenants' room was located.

**0200 hours  
>Resort Ballroom<strong>

Master Sergeant Takao Yamashiro reentered the ballroom, tossing a quick salute back to the corporals outside the door, and took the plate offered by his friend, Sergeant Ken Misato, the head lieutenant's younger brother.

"Anything exciting happen while I was gone?" Takao inquired half-heartedly. Ken shrugged and went back to his California Roll.

"We just got orders a few minutes ago to check the recent guest rosters and make sure everyone who's supposed to be here is still here; just a quick head count and putting a name to a face."

"Right," Takao sighed tiredly, taking the offered clipboard and papers. He took a gold and silver ballpoint pen, a personal favorite for his writing, from his breast pocket and started down the list. Of course, who would be the first face to greet him but a certain blond high school student. "Camilla Ashford, hm…? As in the daughter of the chairman of the Ashford Foundation, perhaps?" he mused idly, simultaneously walking over to where said girl sat huddled with her friends. They drew back as he approached, but he just rolled his eyes.

"I'm just checking to make sure everyone's still here," he groaned in annoyance. He decided to look through the entire group while he was there. "Let's see, Camilla Ashford." Said girl flinched slightly. "Nina Einstein," he glanced at the little xenophobe, who simply averted her gaze nervously, "Shirly Fenette," the redhead glared back defiantly.

"Ooh, so scary," he mock-shuddered, "Now for the boy," he looked over to where the lanky male sat calmly at a table beside the group. "Ah, Lelouch Lamperouge. Ran me out of a good sum a few weeks back, kid," he grimaced slightly. The teen simple smirked in response and took a wad of cash from his pocket.

"Here," he said, tossing the paper-bound packet to the sergeant, "I found out a while after the game that quarterback was on steroids, so I personally consider the bet inconsequential. I still won out in the end; I made five times that sum off of a noble who thought Stafford couldn't make the pass." The NCO nodded in appreciation and checked to make sure that everything was there before pocketing the bills.

"Good sportsmanship, kid. Ever need a job again, you come to us. Actually," he turned back to look at the boy, "How much would you ask in exchange for your services here? Every man counts, after all." Lelouch seemed to contemplate this, while the rest of his group watched on in utter confusion.

"We'll settle the fee after this blows over; I know that the sooner you people get out of here, the sooner I can get back to my little sister," he concluded, reaching in the lining of his jacket and retrieving a jet-black butterfly knife.

"Well said," Takao concurred, gesturing to the pair at the door, who walked over and saluted sharply. Takao waved it off and started issuing orders. "Take the kid up to Lieutenant Misato's room; inform him that Lamperouge comes with an offer." The pair nodded and gestured for Lelouch to follow, only to find him up and moving away.

"Coming?" he smirked. The corporals grinned in response and followed.

The other three teens of the party were extremely confused. "What just happened? Where are they going with Lulu?" Shirley asked worriedly. Takao smirked and started laughing at the nickname.

"HA! Lulu? One of the best mercenaries in the world has a nickname like _LULU?_" he burst out in complete hilarity.

"Mercenary? What the heck are you talking about? Lelouch is a straight-A student, and would be top of the school if not for his physical ineptitude!" Milly barked at the laughing soldier. The master sergeant kept on cracking up for another full minute before calming himself.

"Lelouch Lamperouge is one of the best private military contractors in the world; he's trained some of the best armies across the globe, and carried out over a hundred successful HVT assassinations. The kicker is: he works for everyone but _Britannia_."

The girls recoiled slightly at this, theirs minds racing at this revelations about their Student Council Vice President.

**0215 hours  
>Room 1832 (Lieutenants' Suite)<strong>

"Well, if it isn't the infamous executive himself," Ishitora chuckled in amusement. "You have a habit of popping up in the most advantageous places, you know that?"

Lelouch shrugged. "I just came to watch the conference. The attack is just another one of those unbelievably convenient coincidences."

"Well do you have any gear?"

"Standard kit; Korean K2 assault rifle with four hundred rounds, Sig-Sauer P226 Tactical pistol with a hundred and fifty rounds, ten M67 fragmentation grenades, seven AN4 smoke grenades, and five M84 stun grenades," he replied smoothly, pulling the Sig-Sauer from his jacket and chambering one of its 9x19mm Parabellum rounds. "Don't tell me after all this time you've forgotten my favored equipment?"

"Oh, never; I recall you shot me with both of those guns at least once."

The gun was quickly holstered. "Well sorry for enjoying my work," Lelouch huffed. He threw off his jacket, revealing the contouring tactical vest underneath.

"What, couldn't sneak the K2 in under there, too?" Lieutenant Kamachi quipped.

"Couldn't be bothered to disassemble it again after I had to field-strip it and hide it in the lining of the suitcase," the teen shrugged. "In any case, I have it all in my room."

Ishitora folded his hands under his chin. "I assume that you'll be charging you hourly rate, then?"

"I'll make the first two hours free of charge, seeing as I'm here already. And in any case, 5.56 rounds are a dime a dozen; and I can scrounge the 9mm from the army's MP5s, P90s and pistols."

"You seem to be all business, so how's about we cut straight to the plan, ne?"

"I'm game," Lelouch replied calmly, "That is, if I hadn't already tapped your network and followed every movement myself, in addition to conjuring up a dozen contingencies for every action, reaction, and counteraction that Cornelia could throw at you."

"See that, Saburo? Worth every penny. Now get your gear and head down to the supply tunnel; do me a favor and find some way to crack the concrete piece of shit, while you're at it."

**0220  
>Supply Tunnel<strong>

And he completed the first two tasks in a seemingly impossible timeframe. Within five minutes, Lelouch was meeting with the demolition teams and concocting a plan to bring the tunnel down around the Brits' ears, should they make another run at it.

"The tanks?"

"Kinetic penetrators have a good chance of cracking it, but the results, as well as the exact location of the breach, are too unpredictable."

The demo team leader had been throwing ideas at Lelouch, who either added them to the "Last Resort List," or dismissed them with good reasoning.

"Well, how about the _Raikou_?" the explosives man inquired finally. This was the one x-factor that had the potential to become the solution; however, none of them knew exactly _how _that transformation was to be made.

"Well, the estimated velocity of each individual projectile from the main shell is estimated at sixteen hundred meters per second…" he pondered the facts that he had managed to get from the crew of the machine. The speed of a discarding-Sabot round from a Britannian M1A2 Abrams tank was estimated at 1,680 m/s, which was apparently enough to blow through most non-reactive modern tank armors. The Raikou's electromagnetic shrapnel shell was more than enough to blow through a tank, so how would it react against nearly four feet of solid concrete? "It could either bury the shells deep into the tunnel and leave gaps for high-explosive charges, or it could send the projectiles ricocheting around the tunnel, potentially destroying everything within, including the cannon itself."

One of the men next to the chief sweat dropped. "Well isn't that a cheerful thought." Lelouch shrugged and looked back to the hybrid Knightmare/Cannon.

"Or we could have the ultimate ace in the whole standing right before us; the odds are roughly fifty-fifty, if only a hundredth of a percent in favor of the massive catastrophe."

"Ah numbers, how I despise them so…" Takao sighed wearily as he exited the cargo elevator. "Well, Mister Lamperouge, have you any expertise to offer us in the midst of this massive shit storm?"

"Tell your men to pray to whatever deity they observe, because it'll be a miracle if they ever make it out of this clusterfuck alive," the mercenary replied bluntly. "I've faced down Britannian and European armies, the Middle Eastern Federation, and even a penguin with a machine gun. And despite all of my experience, I still can't find a way out of this without losing at least seventy-five percent of your people."

"What's the best option?"

"Move everything across the bedrock of the lake and break the encirclement, but the trip back would be the killer, pardon the terrible morbid pun."

"Well how about the worst?"

"Surrender to Cornelia and plead like your lives depended on it, and I assure you, they would."

"Well number two is sure as hell out of the question," Takao sighed. "So how's about we just move everything across the north side right now and make for the ghettos?"

"Nah, we've still gotta get everyone packed," Lelouch dismissed it nonchalantly. "Plus, the route I'm thinking of is going takes nearly three hours and a trip straight through the heart of Tokyo Settlement so that we can get our supplies; we'll need to adjust our course, take our current vehicular stock into account, consider the possible number of ambushes the Britannian would set for us, and find a way to dodge all of the toll roads."

"Why dodge the toll roads?"

"Haven't you been through this country? The toll booth operators are goddamned extortionists!"

"Well, you seem to have a knack for comic dialogue; you mind sending a surrender request for me?" Takao asked out of nowhere.

"Oh no, please, age before beauty."

"I'm real shy around strangers, ya know…"

"Geeze…" Lelouch scoffed. "Wow, I think we just managed to fit three parodied TV, movie and video game references into a single five-minute span of conversation."

"Not a bad morning's work, I suppose," the sergeant agreed.

"And sergeant?"

"Hm?"

"Catch the Two of Clubs yet?"

"Ooh, that was an obscure one; well played, Naomi Price."

"Touché. Hey Sarge… You ever wondered why we're here."

"Oh god, not Red vs. Blue; you fucking noob-tuber."

"For Kami's sake, break up the fucking nerd fest and a get back to work!" the engineers shouted in agitation. The pair raised their hands in a gesture of surrender and stepped back into the elevator.

"So… how 'bout them ANBU?" Lelouch quipped casually.

"Ooh, Fanfiction! I love that site!" A wrench flew into the open-sided cargo elevator and hit Takao in the side of the head. "Argh, dammit!"

"Watch your language!"

"It's English, though I suppose Japanese wouldn't be unacceptable."

**0400 hours  
>Hotel Ballroom<strong>

"Breakfast!" the JLF detachment's head chef called from the kitchen to the hungry soldiers inside.

"Didn't they just eat less than five hours ago?" one of the Britannians asked confusedly.

"A soldier's gotta eat," one of the riflemen shot back. "We're lucky to get _one _meal."

The Brit was quieted as the soldiers received their meal, a full continental breakfast courtesy of the hotel's Honorary Britannian wait staff. As the men tucked into their food with a hearty cry of "Itadakimasu!", Misato stood and looked to the Britannian assembly on the far side of the room.

"Well, go and get it!" he gestured to the tables lined with hotplates and heaping dishes of food. The Britannians looked suspicious, but one by one they hesitantly loaded their plates.

As they all sat down to dig in, everyone stumbled and stared towards the front of the room in shock as a huge explosion sounded from the bridge.

"_Kuso_…" Misato cursed quietly. He and about a dozen others grabbed their weapons and pounded up the stairs to the second and third floors where they could get better views from the rooms. Everyone stared in shock as a Britannian AH-64 attack helicopter annihilated the bridge with missiles and explosive rounds, until a shoulder-launched SAM blasted the cockpit and sent it spiraling into the lake.

"Why the hell would they destroy the only other above-ground entry route?" Kamachi pondered along with the rest. Lelouch realized the implications and tapped Misato on the shoulder.

"I think Cornelia's decided to cut her losses and wipe out any trace of this incident… starting with the hotel." He was proven correct when the TVs in every room flickered to life.

"_To the soldiers of the Japan Liberation Front occupying the Lake Kawaguchi Resort, I must commend your determination and bravery in this ordeal," _Cornelia began, appearing in full royal regalia in front of the G-1. _"However, this standoff has gone on long enough. You have twenty-four hours to release the hostages and turn yourselves over for execution." _

"At least she's being honest in her intent…" one man muttered humorlessly.

"_If you fail to comply, the entire resort will be razed to the ground, and the island it stands on totally obliterated, hostages or no. If you surrender, you will be given the options of honorable suicide or death by firing squad; the choice is yours. The alternative is losing your lives in a grand explosion, taking dozens of innocents with you, and further fueling the Britannian quest for ethnic dominance of Area 11. The choice is yours; you have until 0420 hours tomorrow morning to decide." _The image winked out, leaving the men in stunned and contemplative silence.

"…Get me an inventory on everything in this hotel, and I mean _everything_. Check the computer rosters, delivery histories, even take a count yourselves; I need to know what we're working with." A few logistics officers saluted and went to work, while the other two lieutenants-in-charge stepped forward with worried expressions. "You two; I need ammunition and supply reports, as well as an inventory on every weapon here, down to the last pocket knife."

"What are you planning, Ishitora?" his Maritime counterpart asked solemnly.

"We're getting out of here, using everything at our disposal. Also, I need you to send a few of your men down to the marina and recreational areas; take counts of all diving and scuba equipment."

Lelouch stood alone in another suite, watching the Britannian encampment in the distance. "You've played your hand well, Second Princess. However, you've made one monumental mistake…"

"…_You've cornered Ishitora Misato without restricting his resources."_

**0420 hours  
>JLF Narita Headquarters<strong>

The small aircraft-dedicated hangar bay of the JLF headquarters was bustling with activity, as three Britannian VTOL transport aircraft were loaded with one Type 10R Burai apiece, each of the latter carrying a 120mm Heavy Cannon, a dual-tube, shoulder-mounted 95mm Direct-Fire Mortar, and a hip-holstered 35mm Knightmare Heavy Assault Rifle. Additionally, each frame came with a pair of High-Velocity Slash Harkens, a 15mm Anti-Personnel Machine Gun, and Ultra-Traction Land Spinners, all built in. These were mid- to long-range heavy support and assault frames; the Slash Harkens were as close as one could get to close-range weapons.

That is, if the Knightmares even made it to Kawaguchi; with all of the additional weight, the VTOL craft would be lumbering silver targets with olive-drab and tan bull's-eyes in the middle.

Now, in the final minutes before the launch, the aircraft and Knightmare pilots were gathered together, each holding a dish of sake.

"Gentlemen, we have a very slim chance of survival in the coming flight…" the mission commander spoke solemnly, gazing down at his saucer. "However, we are going to support our comrades-in-arms, or we will die trying." He downed the alcohol in a single gulp and shattered the dish on the cement floor, announcing in sync with his comrades:

"_**Down with Britannia! LONG LIVE JAPAN!"**_

**0500 hours  
>Kawaguchi<strong>

"Come on – we don't want our supply drop becoming a flying fireball."

First Platoon was spread around the perimeter of the artificial island with every heavy automatic weapon they could find. Takao stood at the ready behind an Sumitomo M2 12.7mm machine gun, watching the skies to the northeast. The three aircraft had reported in five minutes ago, but had left out their bearing in case of any transmission interception. Now, most of the platoon was concentrated to the north to suppress any fire that might come from Britannian encampment across the now-crippled main bridge.

The sergeant's radio buzzed. _"Commander, the VTOL craft are approaching!"_

"Roger, clear a landing area and then get those things down into the garages ASAP; can't have the Brits bringing missiles into the fray," he acknowledged with a sigh of relief.

**Same time  
>Britannian Encampment<strong>

Of course, Cornelia spotted the incoming aircraft on radar from miles away, and was already calling in anti-armor units, since anti-aircraft weaponry had become scarce due to the lack of aircraft usage in the last few years. However, she had managed to scrounge up an old Swedish Bofors 40mm quad AA gun, which they loaded up and had aimed skyward to the northeast.

"Ma'am, why don't we just send out a helo wing to intercept them?" a corporal manning the gun asked curiously.

"If we sent them straight over the hotel, they would be blown out of the sky; if we sent them around, they wouldn't have enough time to make the intercept," the princess replied without hesitation, having already considered that and several other options.

"Well don't we still have fighter jets left over from the invasion?" a private piped up from his position beside the spare magazines.

"The fighters at RBAF Tokyo were rendered in-op when most of their frames were cannibalized by the other outlying squadrons for parts, and the other squadrons wouldn't be able to scramble fast enough," she sighed in disappointment. Even with the advent of the Knightmare Frame, she still believed that a fighter wing could do massive damage to most ground-based armored units. "Besides, most of our dwindling air power is based out of the Kanto District's Iruma facilities, simply because it was left intact from the Japan Air Self-Defense Force shortly after the invasion."

"Damn, guess it's gonna be awhile before I can see my brother again then…" the private sighed.

"Family in the air services, private?"

"Yes, ma'am," the young man replied with a hint of pride. "My family is German-Britannian; we spent a good part of our lives over in Germany, where my older brother received some combat flight training with the Luftwaffe. He was fast-tracked into the Royal Air Force when we returned; last I heard he had made First Lieutenant overseas performing air raids on our home country…" Cornelia winced in sympathy.

"That must've been hard for him."

"It was at first, but most of the confirmed kills he's made have been on targets from other EU countries; he tries to avoid Germans when he can, simply because most of his personal air tactics are based on the Luftwaffe's training regime, and the Germans have had the foresight to train to counter most of their own methods. If he does have to engage their fighters, he makes sure to call everyone off and only damage the plane to the point of ejection."

"What types of planes are the Germans using these days, anyway?" Cornelia inquired.

"Mostly MiG-31 Foxhounds and Russian SU-47 Strike Flankers, although rumor has it that one of the Scandinavian territories have come forward with a new design for a craft known only as the 'Wyvern'."

"How exactly are you keeping up-to-date with all of these goings-on in Europe, private? I thought the mail service overseas was terrible."

"My mother is an operations director on the _HMS Dauntless_, an aircraft carrier stationed in the Atlantic, your Highness."

"Hmm… Private, I'd like you to report to me any new developments that you might hear about in Europe; I'll promote you to sergeant and offer you a bonus for every report," she said in all seriousness. The private was bewildered.

"Y-Your Highness, I would gladly keep you up-to-date on any developments, but I couldn't possibly accept such an honor…"

"Nonsense, consider it a well-earned reward to service to the Empire."

After a moment of consideration, he replied. "Very well, ma'am… And I don't know if I'm overstepping my bounds, but I'd like to make a request."

"Anything short of an army."

"Princess Cornelia, myself and a number of my comrades have received combat flight instruction, but we really cannot offer anything here without resources… If you would be so generous to even try, I'd like to establish a strike-fighter detachment within your army."

Now it was Cornelia's turn to be dumbstruck. She herself had been pleading her father for an air combat unit, but each time, she had been summarily rejected. Then she had gone to the air command itself, but had also been rejected by the supreme commander of the Britannian Royal Air Force, this time more reluctantly due to his own dwindling importance and resources in the empire's armed forces. Now, her silent pleas were answered by a lowly private and his non-commissioned comrades.

"Private, if I didn't know it would start a national media upheaval, I would kiss you right now."

"P-Princess Cornelia?"

"Your request is being granted whole-heartedly. After this operation has concluded, report to my command with your comrades so that we may begin assembling your group."

"T-thank you, Your Highness!" the private muttered in sincere thanks.

"Think nothing of it, private, you have just answered my long-ignored call. Now then, what is your name?"

"Private Hans Grimm, Your Highness," he saluted proudly.

"At ease… Captain."

After a full minute, the freshly-promoted captain was broken from his blissful stupor by a call over the G-1's loudspeakers.

"_Enemy VTOL craft approaching from bearing 020, three of them!"_ The corporal on the gun jumped a bit in his seat before loading the gun and aiming down the sights at the designated area. Sure enough, three blue and white U-shaped aircraft came over the mountains on the other side of the lake, each carrying a forest green and tan machine of some sort.

"Can anyone identify their cargo?" Cornelia called out to the spotting team.

"It's three heavily-modified Glasgow Frames, ma'am; I believe that the local designation is "Burai"," the man on the scope called back.

"No matter; fire when they are in range!" the princess ordered, receiving a string of affirmatives from all stations.

**0505 hours  
>Kawaguchi, JLF positions<strong>

"Master Sergeant Yamashiro, our snipers have identified a Swedish Bofors 40mm anti-aircraft gun on the opposite side!" a runner announced frantically. Takao pulled back on the machine gun's action and keyed his collar radio.

"All units, the Britannians have an anti-aircraft gun and several anti-armor weapons; lay down smoke towards the encampment side and open fire!"

"_Hai!"_

Five M2s, along with a number of assorted fire team-based light machine guns and anti-tank weapons opened up towards the general direction of the Britannian encampment, as another squad set off smoke grenades on the ground and from the upper levels of the hotel. Despite all this, the opposition's guns opened up blindly in reply.

"They're using spray-'n-pray tactics!" one man shouted over the roaring guns. Takao grew worried, and his heart leapt in his chest a bit when he heard a resounding ping of metal on metal from high in the air, as the three craft touched down on the marina side. He opened his comm line again to the retrieval team. "Somebody give me a damage report!"

"_Sir, minimal damage to the aircraft; however, one of the Burai has a 40mm shell lodged in its arm. We're going to have to perform a rapid patch job, but there aren't any engineers here with extensive Knightmare repair experience."_

"Well what about the Raikou crew? Get one of those guys up here!"

**Britannian Encampment**

"My deepest apologies, Your Highness; I haven't worked an AA gun since Basic, I totally forgot about standard tactics," the corporal apologized profusely. Cornelia waved it off and turned back towards the G-1, which was still under machine gun fire from the island.

"We'll toss the blame on the empire's growing Knightmare dependency; it'll just be shaken off with the rest of the minority of criticism." She turned back to Grimm, who was with two of his squad wrapping up an M2 Browning .50 cal. "Captain Grimm, assemble your men now; I'll be needing to send you off soon on your fighter hunt."

"Yes, Your Highness," Hans replied dutifully, gesturing for his comrades carrying the MG to follow. As they made off, Cornelia stood there and watched as armor-piercing machine gun rounds finally began tearing through the reinforced windows of her mobile command, splattering blood and body parts about the interior as her advisors were rendered to bloody scraps and flying limbs.

'_Well, now that my work has been done for me…' _she thought maliciously, a small grin of bloodthirsty satisfaction growing on her lips.

**0510 hours  
>Lake Kawaguchi Resort<strong>

"Cease fire and get me an ammunition count!" Takao shouted over the radio, finally breathing easy as the gunfire was reduced little by little. He turned and headed down into the parking garage, where the ceiling was high enough for the VTOL craft to move upright to properly disembark the Knightmares. The two captured Blackhawks had also been towed down into a section of the garage closer to the entrance by civilian pickup trucks.

The three Heavy Assault Burai, said to be the heavier counterparts of the upcoming _Burai Kai _from Kyoto, roared to life and detached from the cables of their transports, their Landspinners screeching as the pilots put their machines through a few rounds of the garage to warm up the systems. Once they were finished, the three modified machines came to a stop shoulder-to-shoulder, adjacent to the helicopters by the entrance. The pilots opened their cockpit blocks and leapt down simultaneously, dressed in forest camouflage infantry uniforms with steel-toed combat boots, standard caps and and olive-drab flak jackets.

The man piloting the only damaged frame sighed tiredly and rubbed the back of his head. "How do I always draw the fire when my frame is totally unmarked?"

"Because the others _are _marked, which makes you seem like either the least or most important," Lelouch replied as he stepped out of the elevator, flanked on both sides by Ishitora and the MSDF lieutenant. The pilot looked at his frame, and then to those of his comrades; his was a blank slate, while both of theirs bore some kind of kanji with sentimental value. The man turned back to the officers rubbing his neck sheepishly.

"Heh, guess you're right…" he sighed wearily before snapping to attention. "Corporal Rei Shizuka, former JASDF First Lieutenant at your service, sirs."

"_Former _First Lieutenant?" The mariner raised a brow curiously, "I thought the ranks transferred over with new commissions."

"The majority of Air Self-Defense Force personnel were demoted due to lack of ground experience, very limited aerial resources, and overabundance of commissioned officer staff," Rei explained sadly. Lelouch shook his head in disappointment before returning to business.

"You'll all fully armed and carrying supplies?"

"Yes sir; all units are fully armed and armored, and the supplies are stored in the containers on the VTOL craft," Rei said quickly. Sure enough, the maintenance crew soon approached them pushing carts loaded down with boxes of new weapons and ammunition, as well as a few large bundles of demolition-grade explosive.

"So what kind of presents have they brought us?" Ishitora asked the crew leader.

"4,000 rounds of 5.56, 5,000 of 12.7, 2,000 of 9mm, and about three dozen brand-new M200 anti-material rifles with 300 rounds apiece."

"No wonder those things were just lumbering hunks of metal in the sky," the mariner muttered. He walked off shouting orders to begin distributing the supplies, leaving the other three to examine the Knightmares.

"So this is the heavy-metal precursor to the Burai Kai…" Lelouch pondered in slight awe. He had rarely worked with any Knightmare greater than an average Glasgow model.

"Truly the next step closer to matching Britannia," Ishitora commented.

"Indeed; however, it's still a bit outdated," Rei responded. "Kyoto seems to have been working on the cheap with this update; they basically left all of the old Glasgow systems and slapped on an extra ton of armor and weaponry. As a result, it packs a punch, but it has perhaps seventy-five percent of the Burai's combat time, and only about sixty-six percent of its speed."

"Nevertheless, the fact that they were able to even effectively produce this right under Britannia's nose is nothing short of amazing," Lelouch interjected. "I mean, Kyoto is under the eye of almost every Britannian technology and security agency in Japan; their connections and capabilities must run either overseas or deep underground."

"Most likely the former," Ishitora said, "There are rumors running around that Kyoto is being supplied by Rakshata Chawla and her underground agency in India; there's also word that she might be coming to Japan personally to oversee the continued maintenance and field development of her newest Knightmare Frame, which she'll be passing on to Kyoto, who will in turn offer it to one of the national resistance groups."

"And I take it the JLF are on the top of the list?"

"Well, Blood of the Samurai used to be the top, until Cornelia wiped them out of course. So yes, we're on top at this point. Sad, really; I'd heard good things about Blood's engineers, considering they were able to transform several mountain mines into every infantryman's worst nightmare."

"Well are there any of them left?" Lelouch inquired, genuinely curious.

"I think they had a small cell up in Hokkaido that the Britannians never found, whether it's because they were well-hidden or just not a big threat. Why? Looking to get in on the resistance action?"

"I'm thinking more along the lines of PMC expansion. Now, let's get one of these guys down into the supply tunnel and crack that sucker open so we can implement our escape procedure."

**0600 hours  
><strong>_**Yokosuka **_**Conference Room**

The senior personnel of the company, along with several squad and designated team leaders assembled in the conference room as a pair of technicians configured Ishitora's laptop and the room's projector. Once this was done, they made their way outside and flanked the doors, retrieving their recently-appropriated MP5 9mm submachine guns and standing guard while the planning session went on.

Once everyone was sufficiently settled and calmed, some with notepads or smart phones to make note of their roles, Ishitora stood at the front with a wireless mouse in his hand and started the presentation.

"All units are represented? All six fireteams and significant personnel?" Scanning the room himself and getting a headcount alongside a roll call, he nodded in satisfaction. "Excellent. I will now begin the briefing of the execution and roles of Operation: Exodus Thirteen."

"Wait, what happened in One through Twelve?" one man inquired.

"Exodus Operations One through Twelve were a series of tactical withdrawals around the globe from hostile areas, including China, Indochina, Russia, various territories in Africa and the Middle East, and one particularly humiliating incident in the EU involving a horde of angry German women, as well as myself, Britannian First Lieutenant Jack Bartlett, and Corporal Ken, the latter three of us being severely intoxicated," he explained with a completely straight face. Many of the men in attendance were stifling uproarious laughter, but knew better than to show such disrespect at the situation. It was a code as old as the military itself: what happened in the EU stayed in the EU. This code was observed by every other country's military around the world, except for those within the Union itself.

"Refocusing!" he snapped, forcing them out of their states of incredulous hilarity. "The goal of this operation is to escape Viceroy Cornelia li Britannia's cordon around Lake Kawaguchi and return safely to our base in the Narita Mountains." He clicked the left mouse button once, which pulled up a map of the lake and the surrounding area. After a few seconds, the map expanded to include Narita. A highlighted route appeared between the two areas.

"Our projected escape route skirts almost completely around the Tokyo Settlement, with the exception of a small pass through the Saitama Prefecture, where we will rendezvous with and be reinforced and supplied by Naoto Kozuki's resistance group. The planned route is one hundred and forty-five miles, approximately a five-hour trip, but it may be longer due to necessary detours and minor skirmishes." The image changed to a fairly long list.

"Our resources are fairly diverse in terms of actual products, but our numbers are rather limited. All of you should be fairly familiar with our stock of standard military weaponry," he glanced around as all in the room nodded in sequence, "And we have also acquired a small stock of close-quarters weapons from the hotel's security office, as well as a handful of carbines and a pair of machine guns from the captured or dead Britannian assault teams. These include a number of H&K M4 Super 90 shotguns; M4A1 and M416 assault carbines; MP5 submachine guns; G36E assault rifles; and numerous stun, fragmentation, and smoke grenades. Approximately one kilogram of plastic explosive was confiscated from one of the Britannian assault teams, bringing our demolitions stock to a hefty twenty-two kilograms of high explosive." The two present engineers grinned evilly and exchanged high-fives.

"As for acquired resources from around the hotel, we have "confiscated" sixty-five oxygen canisters, both from the hotel medical station and the recreation area; secured thirty civilian vehicles, twenty-five being Toyotas of some form, the remaining five being delivery trucks; seventy pairs of binoculars of varying quality and condition; and twenty operable handheld radios from the security station.

"The captured Blackhawk helicopters will be piloted by former ASDF personnel and used as gunships, while the majority of the remaining troops will move along the lake bed with oxygen tanks and equipment. A small number of civilian vehicles are currently being modified to travel on the surface of the lake and then continue once on land; the rest will be converted into semi-submersible craft and will travel at mid-depth along the lake to provide us transport on our little 'road trip' home. The tanks are considered expendable, being only five out of nearly three hundred, and even outdated at that compared to the Type 10 models. They will serve as the frontal distraction, along with a handful of volunteers from the Japanese hotel staff armed with a few confiscated weapons, so as to avoid leaving any solitary trace of our equipment or activities here."

By now, everyone was taking notes on resources and assignments as Ishitora continued reading off the slides, which were partially prepared by Lelouch.

"… And finally, Mister Lamperouge over there will be providing tactical analysis and long-range support from one of the gunships," he gestured to where the boy sat at the far end of the conference table, his combat boots propped up on the once-shining mahogany surface. He was currently dressed in a standard JSDF uniform, as they all were; the entire company was unique in the respect that they all chose the standard camouflage BDUs and vests of the Japanese military as opposed to the JLF's bland and impractical tan and olive-drab.

"Lieutenant, when did a mercenary get here?"

"I was in the middle of a high-stakes game of poker when I suddenly find a Howa Type 89 rifle barrel shoved in my face," the teenager deadpanned. The corporal who had asked the question rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly at the pointed look.

"Just doing my job…"

"And losing me nearly a million pounds."

"Once more coming back to the topic at hand," Ishitora grunted, "He will be assisting us in our escape effort, and up until we reach Narita; after which he will receive his payment and be on his merry way."

"I'm hurt, Lieutenant; am I that unwelcome?"

"I think that General Katase wouldn't exactly be looking forward to your presence after that incident in February."

"In my defense… you were there, Tohdoh was there, and about a dozen cases of sake were emptied."

The lieutenant stiffened, but quickly scoffed and shut the lid of his computer. "Now, are there any questions?" There were of course none. "Very well, the operation begins at 0800 hours; NIPPON BANZAI!"

"**NIPPON BANZAI!"**

**0730 hours  
>Britannian Encampment<strong>

Polishing off the last drops of a cappuccino along with the remainder of Grimm's request paperwork, Cornelia sighed in relief and watched as a trio of MV-22B Osprey VTOL rotorcraft lifted off from the center of the camp, carrying the fresh captain and his squad, as well as two additional squads of Britannian Marines and scattered logistical staff to assist in the aircraft acquisition. The Marines were simply an escort group to protect the squad as they made their rounds of the few surviving air bases in Area 11; the Viceroy didn't want anything happening to her potential trump cards. She also didn't mind that a few of her bureaucrats were actually making themselves useful.

As the craft lifted off, however, a motion-sensitive camera directed at the resort complex sent a feed to the display on the front windows of the repaired G-1 of what appeared to be a heavily-armed squad of Elevens escorting three Knightmare Frames.

One of the Knightmare technicians that Cornelia had put on standby on the monitors began analyzing the machine with an engineer's critical eye, taking a freeze-frame close-up of the lead machine and going over it on a separate monitor. The man occasionally jotted down his findings on a small note pad.

The Knightmares in real time maneuvered into positions on the south shore of the small island, heavy cannons aimed towards the encampment, while the infantry took up positions behind hastily-prepared shields of triple-layered sheet metal and rapid-setting cement. A second full squad appeared from the submerged parking garage, carrying what appeared to be pre-war Britannian M2 Browning .50 caliber machine guns.

'_Now what ever happened to those beautiful Japanese guns they were using a while ago?' _she mentally questioned, simultaneously examining the soldiers' weapons. Most of them carried Britannian M4A1 carbines and MP5 submachine guns, with a few Remington M24 sniper rifles scattered about the group. _'There's no way that they came in with just this considering the defense they mounted last night… So where are all of their good guns?' _

"Get me an analyst up here ASAP!" she shouted to the comms officer on deck, who nodded and sent out the message over the camp's PA. Within two minutes, a pair of steely-eyed Second Lieutenants arrived and saluted.

"Analysts Robinson and Banks reporting as ordered, ma'am," The one named Robinson reported calmly. Cornelia narrowed her eyes; these men were clearly professional intelligence agents.

"OSI?" she questioned bluntly. The men showed no hint of surprise as Banks responded.

"Yes ma'am, Second Prince Schneizel's detachment; we were ordered to keep eyes-on around Area 11 at all times, regardless of administration."

"And were you supposed to reveal this information?" she asked again with a skeptical look.

"Our orders were to keep a low-profile but answer truthfully if questioned by the proper authority, i.e. yourself," Robinson replied emotionlessly. "We were also told to assist in any matter that might require our expertise."

The Second Princess was suspicious, but she had to take what she could get. "I take it you two have already analyzed the opposition?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I want you two to watch those soldiers out front and tell me if anything seems off; I have an odd feeling," she ordered firmly.

"Yes, ma'am." The pair swiftly took up positions in front of the screen, examining each individual and their movements closely. Meanwhile, Cornelia checked with the technician watching the Knightmares.

"Do we have a profile on those machines?"

"Yes, Your Highness," the man replied without looking away from the screen. He moved his chair over to make room as he pulled up a full technical file. "Modified RPI-11 Glasgow Frames, designated the Type 10R Burai – translates to "Rascal", ironically enough. These three, however, are even further remade versions; my guess is an attempt at integrating our Gloucesters into their Burai. Aesthetically noticeable details include heavier composite armor; weighted Slash Harkens, most likely with a more powerful launching mechanism as well; a higher-powered assault rifle; what appears to be a dual-tube, shoulder mounted mortar; and of course the friggin' huge-ass cannon the damn things are waving around."

Cornelia smirked at the man's language, but then frowned at the analysis. If any more of those heavy weapons from last night were still lying in wait, and with the bridge completely obliterated, Sutherlands and Gloucesters would be useless for anything but giant metal targets. This meant that those Burai would have free choice of targets and easy kills from their positions. And if those _were _Japanese military weapons that the JLF were using… no one could know if or when any other such surprises would appear.

"Your Highness! Kawasaki Type 90 Main Battle Tanks, appearing from the garage! Five of them!"

Well damn it all to hell.

Then the shells started falling.

**0800 hours  
>Resort – North Marina<strong>

"All units, Operation Exodus Thirteen is in effect! _**Taikyaku Shimasu!**__"_

"_**TAIKYAKU SHIMASU!" **_all units echoed back as they scrambled to their stations in the garage.

Out on the docks, soldiers loaded equipment and supplies into the fastest boats they could find, and took off for the north shore of the lake at high speed. Some civilian vehicles had been modified to have some form of buoyancy, and were towed by two boats per vehicle. After five minutes, only the tanks, helicopters and Heavy Burai remained on the island with one last squad and two squads' worth of Honorary Britannians carrying the confiscated weapons.

The Blackhawks lifted off from the rooftop and set about their tasks, once as a staff transport and escort for the convoy, and the other a gunship and mobile command.

Lelouch sat in the rear of the command chopper with a computer bolted to a table, which in turn was bolted to the floor. The doors were shut, and three men sat on either side of the cabin. All of the occupants wore ear protection as the M134 miniguns on either side blasted away at the troops below. Mounted hardpoints on either side of the helicopter bore their limited supply of captured "Hydra" 70mm rockets.

Said rockets blasted away at the G-1 base, although Lelouch knew that Cornelia had pulled away from the main camp long ago. However, she had neglected to withdraw the main garrison of her troops, who scrambled about in a panic as they were felled by machine gun fire and blasted to bloody bits by shells and rockets.

"I can't believe I'm getting paid for this… and what happened to the Raikou?" he turned to the man to his immediate left, the engineer from the tunnels, who shrugged.

"What do you think we needed the oxygen tanks for? We sealed up the individual units and had it driven across the lakebed."

"But then what about the rest? It hardly seems like it would take sixty-five canisters to keep them alive for a twenty-minute move."

"Well…"

**Same time  
>Lake shore<strong>

Three Britannian Army Infantry were cut down by rifle fire as two squads of JLF troops emerged from the lake in wetsuits, carrying an assortment of weaponry. The two who had killed the soldiers, the squad leaders, carried MP5 submachine guns.

The squad leaders made wordless gestures towards the camp as the men moved as a cohesive unit, checking each other's flanks and tearing apart any of the poorly-trained Britannian soldiers that they came across with suppressed weapons.

Their mission was simple: eliminate Cornelia's command staff and then disappear into the Japanese populace and the countryside. With this singular object in mind, the groups split off and began searching the area, breaching the pre-fab buildings and eliminating any military occupants. They left any civilian staff bound and unconscious.

"_Flashbang going out!"_

"_Freeze! On the ground, NOW!"_

"_Section 3-C clear, moving on to support other units."_

Radio chatter shot across the network faster than most of the airborne supervisors could follow, but the favorable theme was evident: the operation was going off without a hitch. That is, until a third helicopter entered the area.

"_**You there, Blackhawk! Identify yourself!"**_

'_Shit, shit, SHIT!' _the pilot swore in his head, turning back to look at Lelouch. The teenager nodded and made a slashing motion across his throat. The two gunners caught the gesture, and the chopper turned broadside to face the new arrival.

"_**What the- hold your fire and identify yourself, or we will be forced to fire!"**_

"_Sayonara, Britannian scum," _the pilot replied darkly as the minigun started spinning up.

"_**Wha- ELEVENS?"**_

A dark chuckle left Lelouch's throat as high-velocity 7.62mm machine gun rounds tore into the cockpit and cabin of the oncoming Blackhawk, sending the chopper into an uncontrolled spiral towards the ground. It crashed down in a spectacular fireball, which temporarily paused the fighting. Then the JLF forces frowned in unison at the implications of that arrival.

"_All units, Britannian reinforcements have arrived! It's Delta!"_

It could have gone off without a hitch…

**0820 hours**

Britannian Special Forces Operational Detachment Delta, considered to be the best of the best in counter-terrorism operations.

Of course, the Japan Special Forces Group weren't just any ordinary terrorists, either.

Master Sergeant James Romero moved swiftly with his squad from the edge of the containment zone, the entire group carrying suppressed MP5s and M4A1s.

"_**All units, stick to suppressed weapons; we don't know if the enemy is doing the same. As far as we can tell, the hostiles have cleared out the camp, so treat all unknown gunshots as an active engagement. You are weapons free; eliminate everything that isn't in a Britannian uniform."**_

"_**Yes, sir!"**_

A second squad joined up with them, unknowingly evening the odds. The only problem for the Britannians was that they were a dedicated anti-terrorist unit; the JSFG's duty was to kill anyone that posed a threat to their country's security, including rival special forces groups.

**It was sure to be a special forces duel to the death.**

* * *

><p><strong>Profile – Japan Special Forces Group<strong>

**Organization (1****st**** Field Company)  
><strong>Company HQ (based out of Narashino, Chiba Prefecture)  
>1st Platoon (Freefall)<br>- Specialized Squads (Assault, Sniper, etc.)  
>2nd Platoon (Maritime)<br>3rd Platoon (Mountain)  
>4th Platoon (Urban Warfare)<p>

**Standard Weaponry  
><strong>Assault Rifle: Howa Type 89 (5.56x45mm NATO)  
>Submachine Gun: Heckler &amp; Koch MP5SD6 (9x19mm Parabellum)<br>Shotgun: Remington 870 (12, 16, 20, 28 gauge)  
>Pistol: Heckler &amp; Koch USP 9 (9x19mm Parabellum)<br>Sniper Rifle(s): Barrett M95 (.50 caliber BMG), Remington M24 (7.62x51mm NATO), Izmash Dragunov SVD (7.62x54mmR)

**Character Profile - Lelouch Lamperouge**

**General  
><strong>Age: 18  
><span>Birthday<span>: August 14th, 1999 ATB  
><span>Place of Birth<span>: Berlin, Germany  
><span>Parents<span>: Marianne Lamperouge (Britannian), Tyler Walther (German)  
><span>Sibling(s)<span>: Nunally Lamperouge**  
><strong>Height: 6'0"  
><span>Weight<span>: 170 lbs.  
><span>Eye Color<span>: amethyst  
><span>Hair<span>: black, mid-length, slightly disheveled  
><span>Civilian Attire<span>: Ashford Academy uniform; black t-shirt, black jacket, blue jeans  
><span>Chosen PMC (Private Military Contractor) Uniform<span>: black muscle shirt, Type III [Ballistic] Modular Tactical Vest w/ web gear, Urban Camouflage ballistic overcoat, black & grey camouflage combat fatigues, black steel-toed combat boots, black beret w/ custom emblem and headset  
><span>Physical Description<span>: thin & lithe, athletic, generally passive expression & posture

**Bio  
><strong>_Born to his Britannian mother and German father in Berlin, Lelouch spent the first ten years of his life in Germany, where he learned a few things from his father, a PMC supervisor and computer technician. During a family vacation to Tokyo, Japan in 2010, Lelouch, Nunally and their father were out seeing the countryside while Marianne stayed behind at the hotel in a meeting with a few partners in her textile business; the hotel was bombed, and Marianne's body was recovered in multiple pieces. With the country on lockdown, the family of three was forced to flee to a Japanese safe zone in Sapporo, Hokkaido, and wait out the war until the fall of the Kururugi Administration. Tyler was recalled by his PMC to Germany to help defend his home country, but he left Lelouch and Nunally under the care of the Ashford Family, one of Marianne's main financiers and close friends.  
>On his sixteenth birthday, Lelouch left Japan on a training sabbatical (under the guise of a student exchange program) to the Korean Peninsula at the suggestion of his distant father, where he spent a year and a half working with a Chinese PMC and studying his father's own methods. Returning to Japan on July 17<em>_th__, 2017, he discreetly began supplying various resistance movements through his acquired and inherited connections, as well as performing a few side-jobs around the country. Recently, he has been disappearing more often to the north, with a few associates beginning to suspect connections to a foreign security firm located in Hokkaido._

**Translations**

**Taikyu Shimasu – **translates to "retreat", in the context of a military retreat

**Kuso** – expletive, "damn it"

**Ending Note**

**Honestly, PLEASE don't go bitching at me for shooting an enlisted man into a commission within an hour. In a society based on survival of the fittest, dumb freaking luck and coincidences are damn sure gonna happen (no, this doesn't necessarily mean MIRACLES.) Britannian society is based on moving up to survive, and that principle implies that any person who can get in a royal's good graces deserves to be catapulted upwards substantially. And no, THIS IS NOT ME MAKING UP EXCUSES! This is my interpretation of the already poorly-outlined original design. Got a problem? Boo hoo. This shit up in here is MINE!**

**(Also, I get that Lelouch's appearance in here is sort of... Out of nowhere. I needed to get him in somehow, and I was blanking; I'm kicking myself since I've found a spot later on that would've been much better, but meh, too little, too late; I'm lazy.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Salutations, dear readers. A small clarification if you have prior knowledge or have done research on the subject of the JGSDF and the JSFG's equipment, you'll realize that most of my included weapons are those which are Japanese-licensed or imported from Europe, and the Dragunov is not actually present in their actual inventory; my own little adaptation. Tell me, if the country which supplies a decent portion of your standard weaponry is eyeing up a precious natural resource of yours and is discreetly gearing up a massive invasion force, would you honestly remain so dependent on their supplies? Rhetorical question: the answer is NO. If you answered otherwise, see AFGHANISTAN: 1980s for the end result of the alternative. Granted, the Mujahedeen did end up stealing most of their weaponry from Soviet forces later on, but that's beside the point. The aforementioned supply routine is a stupid idea, case closed; any aspiring military dictators take careful note. **

**Also, you might have noticed that I tweaked Lelouch's stats a bit. To answer your incredulous mental and verbal questions: no, he is not a total weakling; yes, he may be a bit taller than otherwise insinuated; and no, he is not a part of the royal family. His father was German and his mother was Marianne, who never married into the Imperial Family. He spent most of his time in Germany, and Japan is where his mother was killed by a Britannian air raid, therefore he has a partially-inbred distaste for his mother's "home". **

**Now, I've set up a little JSFG vs. SFOD-Delta, Deadliest Warrior-style showdown here, so let's get this show on the road, and please, no complaints about the end result; what's done is done. Besides, Murphy has a habit of popping up at the most inopportune moments; and of course, he just loves to screw EVERYBODY over. **

_**Murphy's Number One Law of War: No OPLAN ever survives first contact.  
>(Law #2: Friendly fire – isn't.)<strong>_

_**Act 1 – Kawaguchi  
>Stage 3 – "Anybody Get the Serial Number On That Bullet?"<strong>_

**September 18****th****, 2017 ATB  
>0825 hours<br>Britannian Reserve Encampment**

It was twenty men on either side. Each man held three hundred rounds of ammunition, twelve thousand rounds in total between them all.

Every bullet would be fired this bloody morning.

A Delta fireteam made their way through the deserted camp in a crouching rush, their heads on a swivel, watching for the Japanese. The first shot came from above, blowing a bloody hole through the leader's head.

**Britannia: 19 / Japan: 20**

"Dammit!" the second in line cursed, diving into one of the buildings as the other three took cover and fired blindly at the rooftops of the small structures. As their clips ran dry in sync, two SFG men dove into the narrow street, one holding a Type 89, the other an MP5. Their combined fire caught another Delta man in his chest, dropping him heavily.

The man in the building poked his head out and fired a long burst into the MP5 wielder's torso, killing him in return. He was rewarded for his efforts with a 5.56 round through the eye socket, killing him instantly.

**Britannia: 17 / Japan: 19**

The remaining two Delta men reloaded their MP5s and dove out from their cover, only to find the street deserted. The body of the second SFG man remained, but was missing his pistol.

Both stiffened as gun barrels touched to the backs of their heads. They turned their heads only, slowly and deliberately, to see the balaclava-clad SFG operative holding a pair of USP 9s and glaring down at them hatefully. They didn't even have a chance to scream as two rounds apiece passed through their skulls.

As he holstered the two pistols, a second Delta fireteam, no doubt the second half of the squad, rounded a corner and unloaded on him.

**Britannia: 15 / Japan: 18**

Not having time to check the bodies, the Delta group kept their original pace through the camp, occasionally checking the buildings for any survivors. Throughout this process, the remainder of the two dead men's SFG squad was scattered about the area, their sights set on the fireteam.

One SFG soldier had the iron sights of his Type 89 lined up on the ranking member of the team, and his finger slowly depressed the trigger. His eyes widened and the balaclava over his mouth developed a crimson stain as a Delta operator pulled the KABAR from the back of his neck. Before he fell dead, the SFG man reached around the front of his belt and pulled the clip on an M67 fragmentation grenade, unnoticed by the Delta; he did a quick spin move as the other man tried to sneak off. Four seconds later, both men fell irrefutably dead in varying numbers of bloody pieces as the explosion took out the dead man and his killer. The explosion also alerted each side to the other's presence, and a firefight soon erupted.

The remaining seven SFG men kept to their individual positions around the alleys and on rooftops and fired into the street, effectively creating a crossfire which wouldn't do any harm to each other. The Delta team was in a tight spot until their last full squad arrived, albeit short the man who had been killed by the grenade.

Now outnumbered and outgunned two-to-one, the SFG men started taking losses. One man on a rooftop was blinded by a flying stun grenade and was killed by concentrated carbine fire. Another was cut down as he was surrounded on three sides. A third had the backs of his knees shot out and then had his skull bashed in by a rifle butt.

**Britannia: 14 / Japan: 14**

The four remaining SFG men in the area put up a valiant last stand. However, this apparently had a different meaning to one than the other three. One of the last men took the pins of four grenades on his vest in his hands and ran straight for a cluster of Delta men. He was shot multiple times in the chest and legs, but as he was about to fall flat on his face and buffer the explosion, he twisted in the midair and was killed along with two Deltas as the grenades went off. A third was wounded by flying shrapnel, but managed to shake it off long enough to continue firing. He was killed as a 9mm burst embedded itself in his chest.

By now, the last three SFG operatives in the area were desperately trying to call for backup while switching between cover spots and listening for the muted sputtered of silenced rifle fire, but all they were getting was static; the Britannians outside the cordon must've set up a jammer.

"_NIPPON BANZAI!" _one of the men screamed as he jumped from cover and fired wildly into a concentration of Deltas, only to be cut down by suppressed rifle fire within seconds. He fell to the ground with his finger still on the trigger, firing wildly until the gun fell from his cold, dead hands. The last two men were ducked around the corner of one of the prefab wood structures and occasionally glancing out at their adversaries with cold, calculating eyes.

**Britannia: 11 / Japan: 12**

After a few moments of assessment, the pair nodded to each other and one sprinted across the street through the lethal hail of gunfire while the other cut around the group from another side street and made off to find the last squad. Along the way, he occasionally fired bursts of green tracers skyward to get their attention.

The Britannian squad saw the tracers, and three men split off to hunt down the runner. As they sprinted full-tilt after the increasingly distant stream of green rounds, the men rounded a corner and were shocked to come face-to-mask with the runner and the last full SFG squad. The three were killed immediately by multiple bursts from MP5s for their moment of shock. The SFG group, eleven strong with their twelfth pinned down, made for the sounds of sputtering submachine guns and a lone Type 89 firing in return.

**Britannia: 8 / Japan: 12**

Upon reaching their beleaguered comrade, the SFG operatives noticed that the Britannians were scrounging from the dead, more than likely being low on ammunition. The squad sergeant gestured towards the Deltas and made an overhand throwing motion, prompting the group to each pull out a frag grenade and lob it over the buildings and into the center of the street.

The ranking Delta man saw the volley of fragmenting death spheres as they flew, and shouted for everyone to take cover. Only six men were able to heed the order, as the other two were peppered with superheated shrapnel and were killed on the spot. As the explosions ceased and their ears stopped ringing, the Delta operators were shocked as a full squad plus one of SFG troops charged out from behind the buildings and mercilessly razed the unit with gunfire. During this time, the last surviving Delta managed to duck behind a building long enough to fumble through his pack for his small C4 charge.

As the SFG men rounded the corner and subdued the last Britannian, they brought him forward to the middle of their group for their squad sergeant to deliver the killing blow with his personal wakizashi short sword.

None of them saw the detonator behind the Delta's back until it was far too late.

With the push of a button, ten men were blown away by the C4 charges stuffed into the man's shirt, leaving only two SFG soldiers left, standing there and blinking in shock at the sudden carnage. They looked to where the man had been previously standing, only to find a pair of combat boots with a few small scraps of bloody skin left inside. It might have been comical, had it not been so damned gruesome.

Taking the fallen wakizashi from their sergeant's mangled corpse, the pair went about scrounging ammunition and small weapons, as well as moving about and searching for all of the recognizable bodies and moving them into one area.

A few minutes later, they found an abandoned deuce-and-a-half and pulled it up to the spot, piling in the corpses and their weapons and gear. All of these men deserved proper burials.

**0900 hours**

A single military truck stopped at the edge of the containment cordon, driven by two Delta operators in balaclavas. They were stopped by a regular Army infantryman, who checked the contents of the truck's bed and nearly gagged at the smell.

"Pretty nasty fight, I take it?" the pair only nodded mutely, apparently unable to speak after the traumatic battle. The soldier waved them through, and as they drove away, balaclavas were removed to reveal a pair of solemnly triumphant Japanese Special Forces soldiers.

**Results  
>Britannia: 0  Japan: 2  
>Final<br>Japanese Special Forces Group**

**0920 hours  
>Britannian Main Encampment<strong>

"Your Highness…" a nervous Warrant Officer approached Cornelia, clearly disturbed by something.

"Yes? Do you have news on the reinforcements from Delta?" she asked calmly. She noted that the man winced as she mentioned the organization.

"Well ma'am, the problem is… they went into the rear encampment to secure the chain of command… and…"

"And? Get on with it, man!" she snapped impatiently. He started to speak, but paused and rethought his wording before speaking finally.

"The Delta platoon that was dispatched here… they disappeared without a trace."

"What do you mean _DISAPPEARED_?" Cornelia demanded through clenched teeth.

"There is evidence of a firefight; there are shell casings everywhere, as well as lots of spilt blood and loose chunks of skin," he elaborated. "However, there are no bodies to be found. Two companies of regulars scoured the entire camp, and all they found was blood and shell casings."

The First Princess sighed tiredly and settled back into her chair. "Thank you for the update, Warrant Officer. You are dismissed." Managing to recover some of his wits, the man saluted and executed an about-face before leaving the room. Cornelia had to hand it to the man; he at least recognized that she preferred to be observed as a military leader rather than an imperial princess.

Turning her chair to the computer behind her, she began looking over casualty reports of the past twelve hours. Seeing the fuel, manpower and ammunition expended, she growled lowly. Half a day had turned into what seemed like an eternity; and it pissed her off to high hell. The expenditures of that time period were enormous; unacceptably so. Not even her raid on the Blood of the Samurai's headquarters had left this kind of disproportional resource usage.

Despite what it might have seemed, the conflict so far had not been entirely confined to Kawaguchi; in the past period in which she had been absent from office, other terrorist cells had heard of the incident and seized the temporary military disarray. The remnants of the Yamato Group from Saitama had infiltrated the minor Iruma Base in the Kanto District and raided the armory, seizing several million pounds' worth of weapons and a handful of military vehicles from the motor pool to make their escape; they had also somehow had the foresight to disable every tracking device on their stolen property.

Within minutes of said attack, Fukuoka Base in Kyushu had its power completely cut, leaving Britannian systems in disarray as a small cell of the Blood of the Samurai had wrought havoc on the thoroughly bewildered military forces, racking up massive losses for the latter among the lower ranks as the commissioned staff cowered in their offices.

Finally, a group based out of Shinjuku (most likely the one involved in her brother Clovis's death) had somehow gathered a small alliance of resistance cells and staged an attack on RBAF Tokyo, destroying numerous cargo aircraft and seizing a medley of resources and vehicles on their way out. Cornelia wouldn't be surprised if she was facing tanks and attack helicopters the next time she had to quell an uprising.

She knew that most of these Elevens weren't stupid; there was even a select few that she might say she even respected, the top being The Miracle Maker of Itsukushima, Kyoshiro Tohdoh.

Now she was forced to add a new name to the list as one half-blooded young man stood on the monitor, broadcasting to every television across the country, taking responsibility for the airfield attack and apologizing for the loss of life, while at the same time effectively putting across his fight against Britannia. His name was Naoto Kozuki, formerly Naoto Stadtfeld, who had abandoned his family name and fortune to help his friends and his country release themselves from the grip of Britannia and its Darwinist ideology. His redheaded teenage sister, Kallen Kozuki, was also alongside him, glaring defiantly out at the masses and standing resolutely beside her beloved brother. The last person in the shot was Kaname Ohgi, a Japanese man of about twenty-six with a clear intelligence and determination to his visage.

"… _And I say to you now, Japan! Our war is with Britannia itself, not its innocent people! Our code of honor still stands regardless of the state of our nation, so I vow this: I swear to protect the innocent and the defenseless against the oppression of the strong, and I will restore our country to a new glory, a glory which will stand strong against this day and age! Lieutenant Colonel Kusakabe's actions at Lake Kawaguchi show his narrow-mindedness in his views and his denial of the changing world, but those of Lieutenant Ishitora Misato show an open mind and an adaptation to this new world! I say that I will rise against our country's oppressors and build a new Japan, along with anyone, whether they be Britannian, Japanese, or any other nationality, who is willing to help me! We shall unite, and bring an end to Britannia's preaching of superiority and their tyranny over the world!" _The camera panned outwards to show a massive assemblage of Britannians and Japanese behind him, all standing resolutely and staring out at the world with a burning determination. _"All may not be created equal, but all people deserve the same rights as human beings!_"

"_**DOWN WITH THE EMPIRE! LONG LIVE NEW JAPAN!"**_

Behind him, the assembled group cheered along with him, pumping fists in the air and chanting in unison.

"_**DOWN WITH THE BRITANNIAN EMPIRE! LONG LIVE THE NEW ORDER! LONG LIVE NEW JAPAN!"**_

Cornelia could just see the mass exodus to the ghettos already.

**Same time  
>Lake Kawaguchi North Shore<strong>

Lelouch had to chuckle as he heard the chant going up from the assembled JLF soldiers. He was sitting in the idling Blackhawk gunship landed on the north shore, watching Naoto's speech on his computer's television feed. Naoto had promise; he definitely had the inspiring speech part down.

He shut the lid of the computer and stuck his head outside the door, watching as the Britannian soldiers that they had captured were herded over to the delivery trucks and loaded up, no doubt to be taken either back to the base or turned over to their army. Disregarding them, he looked to where the pilot, a sergeant, was standing around with an expression of boredom as everyone else watched the broadcast and cheered.

"Not going to join in the unending patriotism?" Lelouch asked with a hint of amusement. The man scoffed.

"I've seen guys like him many times over the years," he said dismissively. "Great young guys with boatloads of charisma and charm, a pretty face was fairly common too. But when they get to the big stuff; fighting off the Viceroy's endless waves of Knightmares, watching their friends and subordinates get cut down, they always just lose it. He'll be gone after the first personal attack by Cornelia; I guarantee it."

Lelouch smirked. "You got a name, Sergeant?"

"And why do you care to know it, merc?" the man retorted with sarcastic suspicion. "Anyway, Staff Sergeant Shi Sugiyama, at your service," he gave a mock bow.

"Any relation to Kento Sugiyama?"

"Brothers. How'd you know him?"

"I've been by Naoto's crew on a few jobs; your brother's working with that supposed doomed-to-failure on TV."

"Kento… With that guy…?" Shi pondered this for a long moment. He finally seemed to reach a stance and stood upright, shoving his hands deep into his fatigue pockets. "Well I suppose if he's got otouto with him, he might make it somewhere," he decided with a slight smirk.

"Got a backstory to your chosen career path?" Lelouch inquired, stepping down slightly to sit on the edge of the cabin floor.

"… Our family was just mechanics and private pilots; none of us ever had any aspirations of military glory," he started slowly, almost nostalgically. "When the war came over here, tou-san and I were hired by a mechanized infantry division to fix up their jeeps and Komatsu LAVs, with maybe an MD-500 scout chopper thrown in every once in a while. I was fourteen at the time, so a few of those chopper pilots let me take a run with 'em every once in a while. I picked up the controls and techniques pretty fast, or so they said; started flying out with them a few times a week and left pops with a few new guys to fix the cars.

"Tou-san said he was proud of me; said he seen me flying once and knew for sure I was a natural, said it was my calling. Naturally, being the overeager teenager that I was, I was just beaming from this; and I started flying every day. Scouting, strafing, beach landing suppression, I was into it with the rest of the older guys. A few older teenagers, but the youngest might've been seventeen. Anyway, I was working on the jeeps with dad one day since the pilot I normally worked with hadn't called me in; I thought it was odd, but I just went along with it. Then suddenly, there was an explosion behind us, and one of the LAVs we had just fixed suddenly exploded from a missile impact. The base's alarm started going off, and I grabbed dad and started over to the landing pad and where the chopper was usually idling, all fueled up and everything. It was there like always, with the pilot right next to it, firing a rifle at some Britannian soldiers nearby. Of course, he just _had _to go and get himself shot in the head…

"Anyway, we managed to get to the chopper without incident and take off, and we made it away from the base pretty damn fast. Of course, just about every other base in the country was being hit at once, so we really had nowhere to go. Those damned Glasgows were giving us hell during the flight, too. But when we were running low on fuel, I had to bring it down over Narita. There was a sniper in the woods; he shot through the canopy and killed dad while I was trying to find a landing spot. I managed to spin and kill him with the minigun, but no matter what I did, tou-san was dead. I found the Self-Defense Force's hidden base in the mountains when I sent out a distress signal, and I've been with them ever since."

Lelouch let out a low whistle. "Well, you know how to spin a drama, Shi. So then where was Kento in all this?"

"I think that he was probably already hiding out with Naoto and Ohgi when the last battles started. We hadn't heard much of him from kaa-san when she came by every once in a while, so we assumed that he was already somewhere safe. Or dead, but that was almost the norm for people we couldn't find."

"So you didn't care if he was dead?"

"I had watched six people die at my feet the day before my father died when a gunship crew was gassed in midair. Don't ask how it happened, but it did. I had braced myself for my own death and the deaths of my family."

"How cold of you," Lelouch grinned at the pilot. "Then I ask you now, are you still prepared to die?"

Shi considered the question with an apathetic expression. "Once I am sure that my country is on its way to salvation; then I will be prepared. Until then, I simply need to live a little longer."

"Then I ask you, Shi Sugiyama…" Lelouch jumped from the chopper and walked in front of the man, slapping a hand against the fuselage next to Shi's head, "Are you willing to help me, and at the same time live your remaining life to the fullest?"

**1000 hours  
>G-1 Mobile Base<strong>

Cornelia had finally returned to the G-1 as the engineers finished replacing the shattered glass and damaged equipment, as well as removed the bloodstains and body parts of half of her former bureaucrat advisors. By now, the three Burai and five tanks had somehow been removed from the island, along with the Japanese soldiers.

The OSI analysts, Robinson and Banks, stood to either side of her. She finally spoke to them after half an hour of silence.

"So did you notice anything off about those soldiers at the front of the hotel?"

Robinson replied first. "Yes, ma'am; judging simply by the untailored fit of their uniforms and their gait during their defense, we have determined that the soldiers out front after 0800 hours were only the Honorary Britannian staff of the hotel in JLF uniforms scrounged from the real soldiers."

Banks expanded. "We confirmed this by the fact that every one of the weapons which they used, with the exception of the M2 machine guns, were taken from the hotel security's armory. Therefore, we have surmised that the rest of the JLF company escaped to the north side of the lake, and are currently in the midst of a cross-country journey back to wherever their headquarters is located. We would like to suggest a pursuit effort."

"Suggestion disregarded. We were engaged by a strategically and tactically superior force and drawn into a thirteen-hour war of attrition, which we cannot afford to maintain any longer. Send for a bridge unit from Tokyo and have them span the gap, we need to see if the Elevens left any of the hostages. In the meantime, send in a few teams of Marines and engineers to secure the resort and check for any hidden traps." The pair were slightly taken aback by the princess's tone of tired submission, but complied regardless.

Once the automatic doors slid shut, Cornelia raked a hand through her flowing purple locks and sat back in her throne tiredly. After a minute, she motioned for one of the communication technicians to open a line.

"Get me Captain Hans Grimm. I need to see how far he's gotten."

Within seconds, the young man in question appeared on the broad display and saluted. Waving it off, Cornelia cut straight to business.

"What progress have you made, Captain?"

"_Ma'am, we made it to Kanto's Iruma Base and checked with the national inventory staff, but they could only point us to the former Kagusa Base in Kyushu. Apparently the last of Kanto's stock of F-22s and F-35s were cannibalized by a naval air unit based out of Area 12, the Philippines Islands. However, the staff officer present mentioned a stock of pre-war F-15J and F-4EJ-Kai fighter craft stored at the base."_

Cornelia cursed softly. "I'm afraid we're going to have to hold off on that one, Captain; Kagusa is on land currently overseen by the NAC. Due to their considerable hold over the country's Sakuradite, we are unable to remove anything from the area unless proper compensation is offered."

"_Well what happened to the national military budget?"_

"It disappeared with this disaster," the Viceroy deadpanned. Grimm sweat dropped, but managed to maintain his composure.

"_So then should we just head back to Tokyo?"_

"Was Kagusa the only area that was mentioned?"

"_Well she did mention a few damaged F-15Js and F-2As sitting in a yard at the old Tsuiki Base…"_

"Get on it. Even if I have to raid my own account to do it, those fighters _will _get fixed," she ordered adamantly.

"_Yes, Your Highness…"_

**1300 hours**  
><strong>Iruma, Saitama Prefecture <strong>

Barely ten miles from Grimm's previous location, a scattered convoy of Toyotas and delivery trucks made their way casually into the town, meeting up at an old warehouse. Once they arrived, thirty-seven armed-to-the-teeth soldiers piled out of the vehicles and assembled in evenly-spaced formation, six columns wide, six deep, with Ishitora standing off to the right as the lead and number 37.

At the front of the warehouse stood Kyoshiro Tohdoh himself and his Four Holy Swords, all sitting in the _seiza _position and watching the men with cold and calculating expressions. The men held their thousand-yard stare along with Ishitora, who was saluting the whole time. Finally, Tohdoh moved to his feet and returned the gesture. When he ended it, Ishitora sighed as he was finally able to put down his arm.

"The… remains of Company C, 22nd Infantry, reporting as ordered, Colonel."

"Remains? What the hell happened to 3rd Platoon?" Kosetsu Urabe demanded, only to be silenced by a hard stare from the colonel.

"We… we ran into some reinforcements on the way out, sir. They were sent to eliminate the rest of Cornelia's staff; they ran into a Delta platoon. I believe the last two survivors of ours are heading back themselves through Tokyo, sir."

Tohdoh sighed and rubbed his temples. "Dammit… was it the Special Forces unit?"

"Yes sir, sorry sir."

"Sorry doesn't bring back twenty-three of our best infantrymen," Shogo Asahina replied with a mocking smirk. The young man was silenced as Ishitora, three years his senior, tossed him a glare.

"With all due respect, _Colonel_," he looked pointedly away from Asahina, "My men knew the risks. However, the intervention of Delta was unexpected; we were told that _your _units had their units occupied at Nagasaki."

All five of the elite soldiers winced simultaneously, eliciting a few hard looks from the remains of Company C.

"I'm afraid that we were… a bit sidetracked in that incident," Chiba Nagisa admitted with a sort of regretful sheepishness.

"Sidetracked, Chiba? Care to elaborate?" A few men from the back row took the chance to stare incredulously at their commander. The rest knew that if there was one person in the organization other than General Katase that could address any of the Holy Swords as such, it was Ishitora.

The woman in questioned flushed a bit in shame and embarrassment. "W-well… Their defenses were too strong! We couldn't push through any further; we had to withdraw."

"Really? Then do you care to explain how the scattered remains of the Blood of the Samurai, the Yamato Group, and some backwater resistance men from the _Shinjuku Ghetto _of all places, managed to permeate secured areas all across the country and wreak havoc while we were fighting for our lives, and you all had greater resources at your disposal than the other four factions mentioned put together?" the Lieutenant snapped heatedly.

"…Totally disproportional defenses?" Ryogo Senba offered weakly. Ishitora's eyes burned with a kind of fury and killing intent which made the entire formation beside him take a perfectly-spaced, large step to the left. Just when it seemed that he was about to snap, he exhaled deeply, looking nearly ten years older than his twenty-nine years.

"Forget it." He turned to the man to his immediate left. "Takao, I'm taking control of 1st Platoon. My first order of business: take a note." The master sergeant whipped out a notepad and his pen. "Note to self – Never depend on anyone but Special Forces or Air Force personnel for support."

"Noted, sir," Takao replied in a monotone. Everyone was watching Tohdoh's impassive expression at this point. He made no move to berate the lieutenant, as the colonel most likely already recognized his failure.

"Forget it; we're heading for Saitama. Kozuki and his group should be waiting there with reinforcements." The assembly took a simultaneous step back without awaiting dismissal, and piled back into their vehicles. Three men went around the trucks, checking on the equipment and the seventeen Britannian prisoners. Within minutes, the only remaining occupants of the warehouse were Tohdoh and the Four Holy Swords.

**1330 hours  
>Saitama Ghetto<strong>

"Come on, when are these JLF guys supposed to get here!" Shinchiro Tamaki whined loudly, prompting Inoue to smack him upside the head.

"Shut up, Tamaki," the blue-haired woman groaned.

"They'll get here when they get here; they did just get away from an island resort surrounded by Cornelia's troops, after all," Kento Sugiyama offered. Barely a moment after he finished speaking, a Blackhawk helicopter flew over and hovered, gently touching down. The three were instantly on guard, but relaxed only slightly when the door opened to reveal four JLF soldiers, as well as Lelouch and Ishitora.

The four men moved to either side of the door as the last pair advanced, slowly and deliberately, towards the trio.

"Where is Naoto Kozuki?" Ishitora asked calmly. Ohgi pointed blankly towards a side door into the run-down apartment building. The pair moved as directed, but Lelouch stopped and looked back at the chopper.

"Shi! Come out and be social!" he called to the pilot. Said man stepped out of the chopper and grinned at Kento.

"_Ohayo, otouto_," he greeted cheerily. Kento gaped at his older brother stupidly, until Shi walked up and lightly snapped his jaw closed. "Quit that, you're going to catch flies."

**Inside the building**

Naoto, Kallen and Yoshida were gathered around a table in a room lit only by a single dangling bulb. Spread across the table was a series of maps of the Kanto District, as well as the islands of Shikoku and Hokkaido.

"Well we have air cover now; why don't we launch a raid on Shikoku?" Yoshida offered up blandly. Naoto just shook his head.

"The Britannians might not have very good air support, but they still have the Royal Navy and their Knightmare VTOL craft."

"Well then what are we supposed to do next? As soon as Cornelia wraps up at Kawaguchi, she'll be coming after us with everything she's got!" Kallen shouted in frustration.

"Don't think so highly of yourselves," a voice came from the doorway. All three occupants' heads snapped in that direction and saw the recently-infamous Lieutenant Misato, along with a person only Kallen recognized, Lelouch Lamperouge.

"F-First Lieutenant!" Yoshida exclaimed in surprise, "What in the world are you doing here? When did you get away from Kawaguchi, for that matter?"

"Oh, we got away about three and a half hours ago," Ishitora said off-handedly. "As for why we're here – well, you could probably guess that. Just as well, I believe we were promised supplies and transport."

"Lelouch!" Kallen shouted, stepping up to the taller boy and pressing a finger to his chest, "What in the hell are YOU doing here?"

"I believe I'm on a very well-paying job," he replied coyly, pushing her hand aside and staring down at her. "Now if you'd please step back, I believe my employer and your brother have some business to discuss." She was about to object when Yoshida put a hand on her shoulder and gently pulled her back.

"I have no idea who he is, or how you know him, but he's right; these guys have to make tracks, fast." Kallen begrudgingly nodded and rejoined Naoto by the table.

"So, cutting straight to the transaction – trucks? Supplies? Men?" Ishitora interrupted with a hint of impatience.

"We have eight Britannian Army deuce-and-a-half trucks fueled and stocked, in the main warehouse next door; we'll send four M1025s and a pair of AH-6 Little Birds along with you for security, and you can take them when you get back to base."

"Sound's reasonable," Ishitora agreed. "Lelouch?" he turned to the merc at his side, who was apparently about to become a temporary military negotiator.

And apparently he was up for the task, as he pulled from his pockets a PDA and a pair of reading glasses. "According to these reports, your recent raid left you with fourteen of those Humvees, sixteen deuce-and-a-half trucks, eight M1A2 Abrams Main Battle Tanks, and seven AH-6 Little Birds; that's not even factoring everything you snagged from the armory. Considering the trouble you've most likely caused for the JLF and her close allies in the near future, I'd have to believe that reasonable reparations need to be at least one unit over half of everything."

"Whoa, hold your horses, merc boy!" Yoshida interrupted, stepping up in front of him. Naoto shrugged and redundantly appointed his negotiator. "We stole this shit fair and square! Why should we even have to give you anything?"

"Because exactly seven hours and three minutes ago, Lieutenant Misato was promised material aid from Naoto Kozuki's resistance cell by the man himself. Also, considering the fact that our skirmish was your window of opportunity, we believe that we are entitled to reward, compensation, and the aforementioned guaranteed material aid."

Yoshida was left dumbfounded, but to his credit, he was quick to recover. "Fine then; we stand firm on the eight trucks, but we'll offer five jeeps and three choppers; no tanks, you people have at least four hundred of them."

"And we're asking for ten trucks, eight jeeps, and a full six-chopper flight."

"Wait a minute; we've only got seven choppers!"

"Seven choppers which you most likely don't know how to fly," Lelouch pointed out with a deadpan expression. Yoshida had the decency to chuckle sheepishly.

"Granted… alright, how about this: we'll give you nine trucks, cut it down to seven jeeps, and we'll _give _you three choppers, with two more provided on a staggered two-week rental basis in exchange for flight training for a handful of our men. You get the rentals for half the month; we get them for the other half."

"So the payment is flight training for the two weeks that we have the extra two choppers?"

"Plus a provisional platoon of riflemen."

"Hold up, when did we bring any promise of manpower apart from flight instruction into this?" Ishitora interjected off to the side quietly. Naoto, standing beside him, just shrugged and gestured for the pair to continue. And so they did, for another ten minutes, with the deal rising and falling from everything to nothing and back to reasonable again.

Finally the pair drew back and agreed on the rental plan, substituting the rifle platoon for fifty thousand Britannian pounds. The rebel and the mercenary stepped aside for their respective superiors to shake on the deal.

Kallen, who had been dozing in a chair in the far corner of the room, was startled awake as the door opened after the deal had been made.

"Wha- is it over?" she asked groggily. Naoto chuckled lightly and nodded.

"We're gonna be getting some flight training for our boys pretty soon."

As the JLF pair stepped out of the door, Ohgi, Tamaki, Inoue and Kento stepped in. Kento in particular was still a bit frazzled from speaking to his long believed-to-be-dead brother.

Ohgi sighed tiredly and collapsed in the chair which Kallen had recently vacated. "So what are we going to do now? If the lieutenant was right, and Cornelia focuses her efforts on the prominent remnants and the JLF, what do we do with the time we have?"

Naoto turned to his dear friend with a resolute expression. "We disappear, and we train."

"What do you mean, 'disappear'?"

"I mean we head south, away from the action, and we scatter; we'll meet up altogether every once in a while, but otherwise, we train in small cells throughout southern Honshu, Shikoku, and Kyushu, and then we get together in slightly larger groups and raid small, out-of-the-way targets."

"Sounds like those terrorists in the MEF, to be honest," Kento interjected.

"They have a smart method; the only problem is that they cravenly attack even their own civilians to "make a point" to their oppressors. We'll be different; we'll be using legitimate military tactics, like the Mujahedeen of the 80's in Afghanistan."

A few brows rose, but the idea was apparently approved. "So it's settled? Good. You all know the main gang; get everyone up to the apartment and we'll plan out the locations and call in all of our favors."

"All of them?"

"ALL of them."

**1400 hours  
>road outside of Tokyo Settlement<strong>

Britannian civilians veered off the highway in shock as a convoy of army Humvees and trucks manned by Japanese soldiers made its way out of the settlement with no opposition. They were shocked even further as two Blackhawks and three Little Birds weaved through the air, piloted by JASDF personnel. None even considered calling their own military, or even the police, as a fully-armed platoon of GSDF soldiers marched alongside, their rifles swinging left and right, passing heated glares at the frozen civilians from beneath black balaclavas and goggles. Of course, the infantry was easily overshadowed as five Mitsubishi Type 90 tanks rumbled down the road.

At the front of the convoy, in the driver's and passenger's seat of a Humvee, Lelouch and Ishitora looked back in the rearview mirrors at the tanks. "How exactly did those guys even get off the island?" Lelouch asked.

"Cornelia pulled out of Kawaguchi about three hours ago; she apparently left the service tunnel open, and the civilian contractors hadn't moved the cranes out yet. Good thing, too; turns out we left the explosives in the tanks by accident."

"So in the end, we hardly ended up using any of the resources you requested?"

"Pretty much… The mechanics are gonna have a fit over how much fuel and ammunition we blew through, too."

"Well, shit. Are the Burai still with us?"

"They're at about ten thousand feet, keeping above the low clouds."

**VTOL **_**Yoshino-Roku (Yoshino Six)**_

Rei ended up flying his own VTOL, since the pilot had apparently suffered a passive concussion during the initial landing at the resort; the full effects hadn't hit until a few hours afterwards.

"When I told that sonovabitch to knock himself out, I didn't mean literally…" Rei grumbled, adjusting the craft's altitude and flight course. Narita was now a mere twenty minutes out at his current cruising speed, and he had to make sure to stay directly above the convoy to disguise his radar signature until he was over the mountain range. Sure, most radar could discern the altitudes of targets, but with any luck, that was based on overhead satellite guidance… Then again, wouldn't that make _him _the discernable target?"

"Crazy fuck's trying to get me killed," the corporal growled in frustration. He quickly relayed his findings via short-wave radio bursts, and soon, the three plane convoy in the sky increased their speed, fuel economy be damned, and booked it for the mountain hangars.

**With the convoy**

"Dammit, Rei's onto us…" Ishitora sighed. Lelouch chuckled and placed an open hand on the dash, receiving a five pound note from the lieutenant.

"Told you he was a smart one… besides, it was a stupid risk, and you know it."

"I know… but was you may have noticed, I'm a bit off."

**1430 hours  
>Japan Liberation Front – Narita Base<strong>

The concept of the stronghold wasn't too original. There had been countless armies throughout history that had used bases hidden in mountains, particularly the Japanese Imperial Army themselves during the First Pacific War.

No, what made the JLF headquarters at Narita unique was the sheer _**scale **_of the network. Instead of hiding under just one mountain, the tunnels and facilities spanned the entirety of the Hida Mountain Range, and the maintenance and equipment movement tunnels, not to mention the infantry tunnels, spanned the entire central island of Honshu. The other three islands of Hokkaido, Shikoku, and Kyushu had their own networks, since the one key factor which lead to the discovery of their first network by the KGB and MI6 back in 1950 had been the tunnels running underwater across the straits. Since then, the Japanese had switched to a secret heavy submarine fleet, which had yet to be discovered by the Britannians, due to the bases' locations, attached to the ends of the underground tunnels.

Back to Narita – at the moment, a large number of its entrances had been semi-permanently sealed to avoid discovery. However, for the large part, the JLF high command had managed to run a fairly bustling facility while still maintaining obscurity. The only faction which might have even come close to the JLF in terms of resources was the Blood of the Samurai, now majorly nonexistent after Cornelia's personal assault.

The convoy made their way through the town and into the mountains, where they pulled off the seemingly-beaten path and made their way into the trees. The vehicles split off into groups of five, and stopped on separate patches of bare ground, at least a hundred yards apart. After a few minutes of idling, the ground beneath each of the groups began to sink, the hydraulic pistons beneath each platform receding into their housing. Once the platforms were below the designated ceiling, camouflaged panels slid into place to cover the elevators.

Thirty yards below ground, Hangar Seventeen of the Narita Base was bustling as the supplies and weapons from the trucks were offloaded and separated, then distributed to the various armories and storage facilities throughout the base for immediate distribution and installation.

Ishitora was stopped as he jumped out of the Humvee by a trio of fully-uniformed and armed SFG men, with another four stopping Lelouch.

"Oh, for Christ's sake, what is it now?" Lelouch groaned. "I just want my damned money so I can disappear and train my next batch of recruits! Just gimme the silver briefcase and let me outta here!"

"We apologize, Mister Lamperouge, but General Katase has personally _requested _your presence for the debriefing," one of the men explained monotonously, except for the emphasis on "requested". Lelouch rolled his eyes, but followed the group. Ishitora remained strangely silent.

**1445 hours  
>Narita Command Center<strong>

The actual command center was… ironically enough, in the absolute geographical center of the base. Surrounded on all sides by three feet of solid concrete with steel plating interspersed at set intervals within, the facility could withstand the force of the mountain collapsing AND a nuclear detonation with the additional fortifications within the mountain itself, regardless of their structural condition.

The primary external entrance was disguised as a modest little lodge surrounded by trees; on the inside, it actually was a simple lodge. However, said lodge was mostly occupied by JLF high-mobility scouts on their off-hours, as well as observers from the forward observation center atop the range's first peak. Machine guns and anti-tank weapons were stored beside every window, and the interior nearest the tunnel actually housed a pre-war Mitsubishi Type 10 Main Battle Tank, parked down in the cellar and accessible via an elevator offset from the tunnel, which opened up on a ledge a bit further up the slope from the lodge.

Lelouch and Ishitora were escorted through the dimly-lit tunnels towards the center of the mountain. Finally, the group reached a large explosive-reactive reinforced titanium door. Since security this far into the base was rather lax (although the term is used quite relatively), the operators on the other side immediately allowed them through, the metal behemoth sliding seamlessly into the frame, which in turn was deeply imbedded in the rock.

General Katase Tatewaki and a number of other former JSDF brass stood in the center of the room beside a large tactical display, which was currently showing an image of the Blood of the Samurai's former stronghold. Either it was a slow day and they were tactically critiquing the defenses, or they had plans for the old mine.

Katase turned to the approaching group with a stern expression. The SFG escorts, Ishitora, and surprisingly Lelouch offered salutes to the general, who returned it sharply before turning back to the table, where the view switched to the Lake Kawaguchi Resort.

"Lieutenant, I'll expect a full debriefing as soon as I'm finished; please be sure to mark locations and times on the map," he stepped away from the display, gesturing for Ishitora to take his place. The lieutenant complied wordlessly and stepped up, skillfully manipulating the touch controls and marking out key points. In the meantime, Katase gestured for the Special Forces men to disperse, and for Lelouch to follow. The former and latter complied quickly.

The general and the mercenary walked in silence for a few minutes, apparently nowhere, until the general finally spoke as they reached a balcony overlooking a darkened hangar facility.

"I suppose I must thank you for your intervention, Mister Lamperouge. Your support undoubtedly saved many lives this day."

"In all honesty, General, I really had very little hand in operations apart from the exfiltration from the resort; your lieutenant is a crafty man," Lelouch replied, smoothly and modestly.

"Regardless, your organization will receive proper compensation and reward for your time and efforts. I will have my administrative staff prepare your payment, but in the meantime, I have a few matters that I wish to discuss with you." The lights of the facility flickered to life, revealing rows of dusty fighter jets and helicopters sitting in rows stretching from one end of the hangar to the other.

"As you most likely know, air power apparently became obsolete after the advent of Knightmare Frames; however, for what particular reason, I cannot seem to figure out. You don't exactly see Knightmares out shooting down aircraft left and right, now do you?"

"That is a conclusion which I find to be an oddity myself, sir," Lelouch agreed. "From what I can understand, the Japan Air Self-Defense Force maintained quite a well-trained and experienced roster of pilots, as well as a host of relatively modern aircraft. During the invasion, Britannia mostly used F/B-22 fighter-bombers and B-52 Strato Fortress bombers, so Japan's seasoned interceptors should've had no problem with air superiority. If I might inquire, General, can you think of any particular events or issues that would've kept the air force grounded?"

"Now that I think about it…" Katase sighed, settling back into a folding chair set against the wall, "… Genbu was being heavily influenced by the army chief-of-staff, who held a petty grudge against the Air Self-Defense Force. He didn't believe in air power – his personal honor didn't involve having a couple of planes swoop in, drop bombs, and get more glory than his ground forces; his honor wouldn't allow him to ask for any assistance, and Genbu took this as a generic message that the war could be handled by the army and navy, so he grounded the air force for the duration of the conflict. By the time he committed _seppuku_, it was too late for them to make any difference."

"And so the truth finally comes to light…" Lelouch muttered in contemplation. "A single petty grudge and the overwhelming senses of personal honor of a handful of men lead to the downfall of a great country…"

"Truly a sad fact, indeed," Katase agreed mournfully. His eyes then burned with a new resolve. "However, now we can make a difference. With barely a remnant of Britannia's air superiority groups remaining; our air corps can strike back to devastating effect." He gave a sweeping gesture to the rows of fighters on the floor. "And that is where I require your connections." Lelouch raised a brow.

"… Why exactly do you require my assistance in this matter?" he asked slowly.

"Despite the fact that we do indeed have aircraft and crews, we still require substantial stocks of parts and equipment, not to mention fuel and ammunition, to maintain such an air force. I need you to acquire these elements to assist us."

"You realize that even I hardly have access to enough funds to finance the supply of an air force?"

"Quite, this is why we will be passing the money through you, via Kyoto's generous donations. We need you to act as a middle man between ourselves and Russia; you may take a portion of the sum for yourself as payment."

The private military contractor contemplated this offer for a moment. "You'll need a few professional aircraft mechanics to convert your hard points and systems to effectively accommodate the Russian weapons; I can have a team down from Kamchatka within three days, if I can get a portion of that sum on the way out. Also, your men will have to assist with the retrieval; I have but a handful of men at my disposal for the moment."

The two exchanged a firm handshake. "Japan appreciates your support, Mister Lamperouge."

"If I had a soldier for every time I've heard that from a general… I'd have damn near an army by now."

**1530 hours  
>JLF Motor Pool 3C<strong>

Lelouch was taking a squad of the JLF's troops right off the bat as an escort for the mechanics and equipment, as well as Shi Sugiyama, after a few minutes of further negotiation with Katase. The party was loading up into a pair of deuce-and-a-half trucks and a Humvee, with the second truck mostly empty for the engineers, and a third truck completely empty for their tools. Making sure to don Britannian Army uniforms before their departure, the party was seen off by a large gathering of off-duty comrades, and provided with plenty of food and drink for the next few days. Lelouch refused to reveal the location of their stop-off destination to anyone, saying that none but his immediate and later passengers would have any knowledge of his base of operations, and he swore them to secrecy.

As the tunnel opened up with the movement of a small hill, the four-vehicle group took off full-speed, kicking up dust which blew back into the assembly area as the hill moved back into place behind them.

The assembly dispersed quickly, leaving the hangar empty except for a small group of fighter pilots.

"This is our chance right? Our big opportunity to hit those Brits back for all they've done?" one man asked tentatively, as though afraid that the entire incident were some big dream which would disappear at the slightest motion.

"Yes, this is it…" another replied confidently, his chest puffing out with pride at his position.

"We will strike, and the Britannian Empire will learn to fear the overwhelming power of the Japanese military," a third said resolutely. The pilots cheered for a few moments before calming almost instantaneously and dispersing to their current/temporary stations.

**Act 1 – END  
>Next Act: Narita – Japan's Red Cranes<strong>

**Gotta cut it off here, folks; I would've like to have made it 10k, but I ran out of ideas. This was basically an ending filler for Act 1. Well, I'm gonna try to hit up 10k anyway with a ridiculously long profile and glossary. Anyone with no interest, continue to the next chapter. Here we go!**

**Profile – Special Forces Operational Detachment – Delta**

**Organization  
><strong>A Squadron  
>B Squadron<br>C Squadron  
>D – Command &amp; Control (HQ)<br>E – Communications, Intelligence & Administrative Support  
>F – Operations Arm (A-C operator squadrons)<br>Medical  
>Operational Support Troop (In-House Intelligence)<br>Aviation Squadron (160th SOAR)  
>Operational Research Squadron<br>Training Wing

**Standard Weaponry  
><strong>Assault Rifle: M4A1 SOPMOD (5.56x45mm NATO), H&K G36E (5.56x45mm NATO)  
>Submachine Gun: H&amp;K MP5SD6 (9x19mm Parabellum), H&amp;K MP7 (4.6x30mm)<br>Shotgun: Benelli M4 Super 90 (12 gauge)  
>Pistol: M9 pistol (9x19mm Parabellum), USP .45CT Compact Tactical (.45 ACP)<br>Sniper Rifle: Remington M24 (7.62x51mm NATO), L96A1PM (7.62x51mm NATO)

**Character Profile – Ishitora Misato**

**General  
><strong>Age: 29  
><span>Birthday:<span> October 7th, 1988 ATB  
><span>Place of Birth:<span> Sapporo, Japan  
><span>Parents:<span> Yoshiko Kazumori, Kenzo Misato  
><span>Sibling(s):<span> Toshiko Misato (sister)  
><span>Height:<span> 6'2"  
><span>Weight:<span> 204 lbs.  
><span>Eye Color:<span> sky blue  
><span>Hair:<span> close-cropped brown  
><span>Civilian Attire:<span> faded grey jeans; black t-shirt; tennis shoes; blue baseball cap  
><span>Uniform:<span> Type II camouflage jacket & fatigues; black combat boots; standard cap; holstered USP 9 pistol  
><span>Physical Description:<span> tall & fairly muscles, generally cheerful expression and demeanor

**Bio  
><strong>_Born to a GSDF father and an ASDF mother, Ishitora was essentially raised to be an officer. At age 19, he entered military service as a part of a GSDF airborne division, and was taken into the JSFG training program as a part of the 1st Freefall Platoon. At the start of the invasion in 2010, Ishitora has reached a command status in the platoon, and was leading raids at sea against Britannian temporary island installations. He is currently an officer in the JLF, albeit with more modernized ideals than several of his superiors._

**Glossary**

**-san **– semi-formal suffix, generally representing "sir" or "ma'am"  
><strong>Tou <strong>– Father  
><strong>Kaa <strong>– Mother  
><strong>Otouto <strong>– Little Brother  
><strong>Ohayo<strong> – casual greeting  
><strong>Wakizashi<strong> – Japanese short sword (not to be confused with _ninjato _used by ninja)

(Note: all translations are rough interpretations made by a Finnish-American guy; cut me some slack or offer some corrections.)


	4. Act 1 Intermission Profile

**A/N: Look, I know I said Act 2 would immediately follow, but a little intro action for the JASDF, not to mention the overall setting of the coming conflict, is totally necessary in this instance. And of course, even though I said this would involve the ASDF in large part, the ground war at Narita is also an essential element here (of course the battle on the ground is most likely what the majority of you want in the first place.) So, here we have the introduction of the key squadron in the following battle.**

**Enter: 8****th**** Air Division, 22****nd**** Tactical Fighter Squadron  
>'Japan's Red Cranes'<strong>

**Members  
><strong>First Lieutenant Rei Shizuka – _Tsuru__Ichi _(Crane One)_  
><em>Second Lieutenant Kobi Yamata – _Tsuru Nii _(Crane Two)_  
><em>Second Lieutenant Mori Takahashi – _Tsuru San _(Crane Three)_  
><em>Second Lieutenant Reiko Yurei – _Tsuru Yon _(Crane Four)

**Aircraft  
><strong>Tsuru Ichi – Mitsubishi F-2A  
>Tsuru Nii, San &amp; Yon – Mitsubishi F-15J<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Specifications<strong>

**Mitsubishi F-2A Joint Strike Fighter  
><strong>Height: 4.69 m (15'9")  
>Length: 15.52 m (50'11")<br>Wing Span: 11.13 m (36'6")  
>Empty Weight: 9,527 kg (21,000 lbs.)<br>Loaded Weight: 15,000 kg (33,000 lbs.)  
>Max Takeoff Weight: 22,100 kg (48,700 lbs.)<br>Powerplant: 1x General Electric F110-GE-129 Turbofan  
>Maximum Airspeed (Stable Atmospheric Conditions): Mach 2.0 (1,522 mph)<br>Maximum Ceiling: 18,000 m (59,000 ft.)  
><strong>Armament(one per category):<br>**- 20mm JM61A1 cannon (8,085 kg of ammo)(fixed)  
>- AIM-9 Sidewinder; Mitsubishi AAM-3; Mitsubishi AAM-4 (air-to-air missiles)<br>- ASM-1 & ASM-2 anti-ship missiles; assorted guided & unguided bombs (GPB & UGB); JDAMs  
>- JAAQ-2 FLIR system

* * *

><p><strong>Mitsubishi F-15J "Kai" Fighter<br>**Height: 5.63 m (18'6")  
><span>Length:<span> 19.43 m (63'9")  
><span>Wingspan:<span> 13.05 m (42'10")  
><span>Empty Weight:<span> 12,700 kg (28,000 lbs.)  
><span>Loaded Weight:<span> 20,200 kg (44,500 lbs.)  
><span>Max Takeoff Weight:<span> 30,845 kg (68,000 lbs.)  
><span>Powerplant:<span> 2x Pratt & Whitney F100-220 Afterburning Turbofans  
>Maximum Airspeed (Stable Atmospheric Conditions): High Alt. – Mach 2.5+ (1,903 mph+) Low Alt. – Mach 1.2 (913 mph)<br>Maximum Ceiling: 20,000 m (65,000 ft.)  
><strong>Armament (one per category):<br>**- 20mm M61 Vulcan cannon (fixed)  
>- AIM-9 Sidewinder; Mitsubishi AAM-3; Mitsubishi AAM-4 (air-to-air missiles)<br>- Mk. 82 General Purpose Bomb (GPB); CBU-87 Cluster Bomb

* * *

><p><strong>Unrelated – JGSDF Rotor Craft<strong>

**Kawasaki MD-500MD Defender  
><strong>Crew: 1-2  
><span>Capacity:<span> 4-5 passengers  
><span>Height:<span> 2.59 m (8'6")  
><span>Length:<span> 7.01 m (23 ft.)  
><span>Rotor Diameter:<span> 8.03 m (26'4")  
><span>Empty Weight:<span> 599 kg (1,320 lbs.)  
><span>Max Takeoff Weight:<span> 1361 kg (3000 lbs.)  
><span>Powerplant:<span> 1x Allison 250-C20B Turboshaft (420 hp)  
><span>Maximum Airspeed:<span> 160 mph  
><span>Range:<span> 370 km (230 miles)  
><span>Maximum Ceiling:<span> 4,205 m (13,800 ft.)  
><span>Rate of Climb:<span> 503 m/min (1,650 ft. /min (8.4 m/s))  
><strong>Armament (one selection only)<br>**- 4x TOW anti-tank missiles  
>- 2x 7.62mm M134 Miniguns<br>- 4x Stinger air-to-air missiles  
>- Mk. 44 or Mk. 46 lightweight torpedoes (anti-submarine warfare (ASW) version)<strong><br>**- 2x 7-shot rocket pods

* * *

><p><strong>Kawasaki ACH-47 Chinook AssaultCargo Helicopter  
><strong>Crew: 3  
><span>Capacity:<span> 33-55 troops, 24 litters & 3 attendants, or 12,700 kg (28,000 lbs.) of cargo  
><span>Height:<span> 5.7 m (18'11")  
><span>Length:<span> 30.1 m (98'10")  
><span>Rotor Diameter:<span> 18.3 m (60')  
><span>Empty Weight:<span> 10,185 kg (23,400 lbs.)  
><span>Loaded Weight:<span> 12,100 kg (26,680 lbs.)  
><span>Max Takeoff Weight:<span> 22,680 kg (50,000 lbs.)  
><span>Powerplant:<span> 2x Lycoming T55-GA-712 Turboshaft (3,750 hp)  
><span>Maximum Airspeed:<span> 196 mph  
><span>Range:<span> 741 km (450 miles)  
><span>Maximum Ceiling:<span> 5,640 m (18,500 ft.)  
><span>Rate of Climb:<span> 1,522 ft. /min (10.1 m/s)  
><strong>Armament:<strong>  
>- 5x M2HB 12.7mm machine guns (2 at shoulder windows, 1 on loading ramp, 2 on external weapons mounts<br>- 2x externally-mounted 30mm cannons  
>- 1x nose turret-mounted 50mm grenade launcher<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Note: Presence of Britannian Technology<br>**Note that all Britannian technology was purchased and licensed by Japanese military supply companies _before _the start of the Second Pacific War. Aircraft designs were purchased from Lockheed by Kawasaki and Mitsubishi in 2001 ATB; F-2 was a joint Lockheed-Mitsubishi project in 1998 ATB; F-35C was purchased in early 2009 ATB. MD-500 licensed to Kawasaki in 1993; Chinook designs were sold to Kawasaki in 1985.

**XXX**

**Political History – City of Narita**

On September 22nd, 2010 ATB, the city of Narita was bombed by the Royal Britannian Air Force and Naval Air Force, nearly wiping the area off of the map. Japan Ground Self-Defense Force units in the area fled as the Royal Britannian Army used the Chiba Prefecture as a foothold on their march into Tokyo. Hoping to make a stand on the western edge of the country, Japanese military forces moved for the mountains of the Japanese Highlands, where the GSDF unit from Narita hastily erected their facilities in the Hida Mountains as a smoke screen, while they banded together with engineering units and started construction on the sprawling base centered in Mount Shirouma, eventually connecting their tunnels to the others beneath and throughout the entirety of the Japanese Home Islands. These tunnels have gone majorly undiscovered by Britannian forces since their construction, with those which have been uncovered being disconnected remnants used by terrorist groups. The unit originally relocated to the mountains named the central facility after their destroyed home, the Narita Base.

**(Take note: The Narita Mountains DO NOT ACTUALLY EXIST IN REAL-WORLD JAPAN)**

**End Filler Profile**

* * *

><p><strong>End Note: Yeah, not quite as extensive as I first thought… I gave you the rest of it, didn't I? Besides, I have BIG plans for The Battle of Narita… stick with it, and you might just get the rest.<strong>

**(Also, Wikipedia saved my life here; however, if there are any inaccuracies, just inform me; you don't have to give me crap about it.)**

**The ACH-47 was a 60's-70's attempt at converting the Chinook into a gunship, and it was pretty successful; however, they shut down the program in the later 70's due to maintenance and logistics issues. The given stats may be a bit off, considering the presence of the additional weaponry and accompanying mounts.**

**ON TO NARITA!**

**-KFR**


	5. Act 2 Pt 1

"_All wars are civil wars, because all men are brothers." – Francois Fenelon_

"_I have not yet begun to fight!" – John Paul Jones_

"_Older men declare war, but it is the youth that must fight and die." – Herbert Hoover_

**Act II – Narita, Hida Mountains  
><strong>**Stage 1 – "They never speak of killing for their country…"**

* * *

><p><strong>September 20<strong>**th****, 2017 ATB  
>Former JASDF Tsuiki Base, Kyushu<br>1230 hours**

Captain Hans Grimm of Second Princess Cornelia's newly-established 6th Tactical Fighter Squadron rolled his eyes as a Britannian officer walked beside him as he moved towards the hangars of the Tsuiki Base, stuttering semi-coherent protest all the way.

"Captain, I understand that Viceroy Cornelia gave you Priority One clearance, but I assure you, we can have the fighters fixed up on-site and delivered to Tokyo ourselves…"

"And I'm telling _you_, First Lieutenant that I am acting under Viceroy Cornelia's direct orders to have these aircraft moved to Tokyo Base ASAP, regardless of their condition; any repairs can be completed by Her Highness's air corps mechanics. And I will have no further argument on the matter," he snapped with finality, trying to exercise his relatively-newfound authority. The lieutenant shrank back and nodded meekly, although the man was a few years older than Grimm. As they rounded another corner, the man took off in another direction, taking a radio from his belt. Grimm thought nothing of it as he walked on.

A few minutes later, he arrived at the doors into the hangar. Pushing them open, he was shocked by the sight that greeted him.

Two full squads of fully-armed and uniformed Japanese soldiers were in the process of loading three of the planes into the harnesses of three CH-47 cargo helicopters, while another squad of Britannian soldiers watched on without a care.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?" Grimm shouted, whipping his pistol out. He was greeted by a dozen rifle barrels aimed in his direction while the remainder of the Japanese finished strapping in the planes and moved into the helicopters as their rotors began turning up.

"Shit, it's the officer! KILL HIM!" one of the JLF soldiers shouted, at which point the squad of "Britannian" troops snatched up their own M4 carbines and P90s, and aimed at Grimm.

A few obviously Britannian aircraft mechanics and security agents rushed out of the doors behind him, clearly startled by the sight as well, before groping around for their weapons and uselessly sprayed away at the opposition, who were now all behind cover, several behind the planes.

"NO! Don't hit the planes!" Grimm shouted, diving behind a tool chest and firing precise shots at the Japanese and the rogue soldiers. The men gave no acknowledgement, but visibly shifted their fire into locations away from the aircraft.

One by one, the JLF troops dashed for the choppers and provided covering fire for their comrades once they reached them. Within a few seconds, the entire opposing group had piled in, and the helicopters lifted off slowly, with gunners on the loading ramps bringing M2HB .50 caliber machine guns to bear. It was slow going, but they eventually cleared the hangar and gained altitude, taking the planes with them.

Grimm gave a frustrated growl as he threw his cap down onto the asphalt of the tarmac. The JLF had just made off with three of the only seven operable planes on the base, and they had done it right under the noses of their Britannian oppressors. No sir, Viceroy Cornelia would _not _be happy about this. He sighed in resignation as he reached for his satellite phone.

"Your Highness, we seem to have a serious problem…"

**With the JLF retrieval group  
>1300 hours<strong>

After half an hour of flight and several sudden course changes and jamming bursts to foil any attempts at tracking, freshly re-promoted First Lieutenant Rei Shizuka of the JASDF sighed in relief at the controls.

"Gentlemen, we have cleared Britannian radar coverage," he called to the nine other occupants of the chopper. The men gave a hearty cheer in response, exchanging high-fives and toasting with canteens.

The radio crackled to life, with similar sounds emanating from it as the other two pilots confirmed the announcement.

All three of the pilots sat back in their seats and focused on keeping level while locking in their course across southern Honshu. Within roughly an hour, the trio of choppers and their prizes would be back in the hangars of Narita Base, being refitted once again for the inevitable attack by Cornelia li Britannia.

The mercenary, Lelouch vi Britannia, had essentially set himself up in a spare hangar of the base, and had barely come out since his return with the Russia aircraft mechanics. Said mechanics had been modifying every fighter plane in stock to incorporate several Russian weapons, such as the GSh-301 30mm cannon, the Vympel R-73 short-range air-to-air missile, and the R-77 medium-range AAM.

Needless to say, the numerous pilots on base who had their ranks restored were thrilled beyond words, and spent hours on end with small teams of mechanics to customize their planes. Within a single day, five full wings of sixteen planes apiece were up to modernized combat specs, and the pilots were eager to rule the skies once more.

**Narita Base  
>Aircraft Hangar 4B<br>1400 hours**

"So what exactly was the purpose of stealing three junker planes from a decommissioned airbase when we have at least half a dozen wings of fully-functional fighter craft right here?" Rei asked first as he exited the chopper. General Katase was waiting by one of the stolen craft.

"Our spies in the upper echelons and the Honorary Britannian corps have been sending reports about some of Cornelia's men scouring the country for fighter jets, apparently to establish an assault squadron in the Viceroy's ranks. By stealing these three, we leave the enemy with but a squadron of inoperable craft; and Kyoto is making sure that they cannot acquire any more than that."

"Well won't that make Cornelia suspicious about where the rest of the country's surplus has gone?" Another pilot cut in.

"The Viceroy knows that the NAC maintains a series of legitimate hidden storehouses, but she is unable to locate them herself. For all she knows, they have every plane in Japan under their control with the exception of these three and the four left at the base."

"Of course, we'll be disproving this conception when she decides to attack, finally," Rei concluded. Katase nodded and smirked.

"And that time, we have concluded, will come within the next week."

"Have the other cells moved into the adjacent mountains?"

"Yes, at the moment our forces in the Hida Mountains alone total over a hundred thousand soldiers."

**Government Bureau  
>1500 hours<strong>

Cornelia sat in her office, sifting through the casualty figures of the past few days. The terrorists seem to have spontaneously become real guerilla forces; most of the recent attacks had been devastating hit-and-run assaults and procurement raids. The Britannian forces in Area 11 had lost several millions Britannian pounds in vehicles and equipment since Kawaguchi, with overall costs blowing the entire previous year out of the water. Additionally, the Royal Navy had started taking hits; several troopships, patrol boats, and even a destroyer had been sunk or had gone missing.

And she still couldn't find that damnable Naoto Kozuki, or any of the groups that had hit Tokyo! The former Blood of the Samurai facilities, which had previously been used for minor storage, had been raided and completely cleaned out yesterday; since then, no one had seen hide or hair of any of them.

"Don't tell me they've been playing possum for the last six years…" the Viceroy growled quietly. Apparently, whoever had assassinated her younger half-brother had thrown a wrench into their cozy little false submission routine, or else it was around that timeframe that the terrorist leaders had begun reorganizing themselves.

Cornelia stood up and walked out onto the balcony, which overlooked the gardens which Clovis had personally commissioned. It was a touching gesture, as the gardens themselves had been modeled after those of the li Britannias' expansive yards. Leaning on the balustrade, she looked down into the center, where a single acrylic portrait sat upon an easel of granite, inside of a two-inch thick bolted glass case.

It was a beautifully painted picture of a small group, consisting of herself, Clovis, Schneizel, and Euphie, sitting together in the gardens of the actual villa. Cornelia was standing, and her arms were slung around a sitting Euphie, while to her right, Schneizel's hand was resting on Clovis's shoulder. Everyone in the picture was smiling softly.

The original had been done by a royal artist, but Clovis had apparently taken it upon himself to remake it, even the better than the original, in Cornelia's opinion.

It was a reminder of happier times… But the happiness was snatched away by the memorial portrait of Clovis beside it, surrounded by several baskets of fresh roses.

"_Ein Penny fur deine Gedanken, Vizekonig?_"**(1)** a smooth German voice came from behind her. Cornelia whipped around to find a teenager perched on the back of a chair in front of her desk.

"Who are you? How did you get in here?" she snapped harshly.

"_Beruhige dich_, Princess Cornelia," the boy said calmly. "I am but a simple messenger of _tenshu_," he added, switching the Japanese effortlessly. "Britannia's divine punishment awaits, and I am here to spark the righteous flames of revolution."

"So what are you going to do? Kill me?" she asked wryly.

"_Nicht_, I am here to offer you information on those you seek: the Japan Liberation Front."

Her eyes widened imperceptibly with surprise, but they quickly narrowed in suspicion. "If you're here as a messenger, then why would you give me their location? I do hope that you're not expecting a reward; you'll most likely get a cell in Yokohama Prison for breaking into the Government Bureau, not to mention the office of the Viceroy."

"I am but a humble representative of the _Nipponese_, Your Highness; I only pass on what I have been told to speak." He removed a canteen from his belt and took a quick drink before continuing.

"In three days' time, at the break of dawn, Kami's second intervention will occur at the base of Mount Shirouma; whether you choose to witness the sign for yourself is your own decision. Foretold are three signs before the beginning of _Tenshu_; the first has already occurred at Lake Kawaguchi. What I have spoken of is the second sign. I will return later on to tell you of the third. After Kami's third intervention, unless you can stop the second or third, _Tenshu_ will begin, and your nation of false prophets and heretics shall begin to crumble."

Cornelia was dumbstruck – she honestly had no idea what to say to that, except-

"What the hell does that even mean?"

The mystery teen chuckled. "You will find out in due time, dear Viceroy."

It was at this point that Cornelia finally went for the security button beneath her desk. She leapt across the room, ducking back behind it as the teen himself sprang from his seat and dashed for the balcony. By the time she had pressed it and turned around, he was already diving over the balustrade and into the garden.

"_DON'T LET HIM GET AWAY!" _she thundered as guards pounded along the pathways after him. Soon enough, he had reached the edge of the roof, and was partially surrounded by rifle-armed soldiers.

He just stood there with his hands in his pockets, smirking. Then, he raised his right hand to his brow in a salute.

"_Lebewohl_, Your Highness." He stuffed his hand back into his pocket and lightly jumped up onto the railing.

"He's insane!"

"There's no way he'll survive that fall!"

As the guards whispered to each other without taking their eyes from the boy, he lifted his foot…

… And stepped over the edge. Within seconds, he had fallen out of sight.

The men ran to the edge and peered over, only to be blow back again as a Kawasaki OH-6 light attack helicopter rose into view, with the teen balancing on the side.

"Three days, Viceroy!" he called over the beating rotor blades. And as everyone blinked, the helicopter was rising away into the clouds.

"Damn him…" Cornelia cursed to herself. She turned to the new arrivals in her office, General Andreas Darlton and her Knight of Honor, Gilbert Guilford. "One of you, find out what the hell happened to the bureau defenses!"

Darlton nodded and jogged off, leaving Cornelia hunched over her desk, glaring down at the edge of the garden.

"That little bastard… breaks into _my office_, proclaiming himself a messenger of the _JLF _of all people, threatening our occupation of Area 11, and then jumping off of the roof!"

"Though you've got to admit, he has a great sense of theatrics," Guilford offered offhandedly. He clammed up as Cornelia shot him a withering glare.

"I asked for answers, not observations," she ground out. "And get me a line to Grimm about the last of those planes! I want those things back on RBAF Tokyo before somebody else wanders in and steals them!"

**Undisclosed Location, Japan  
>1800 hours<strong>

The skies were beginning to darken as the small helicopter skillfully maneuvered barely five feet off of the ground into the mountain hangar, the cliff side sliding back into place seamlessly as it spun around and landed.

Lelouch jumped out as the pilot shut down the chopper's systems. He was immediately greeted by Shi Sugiyama, who he had recently taken up as his indigenous advisor for Japan. Most of the other men in the PMC were Korean conscripts from his times with his father's associates, as well as a number of Russians, Germans, and scattered French.

"So how did the aircraft snatch-'n-grab go for the JLF earlier?" Lelouch inquired absently, flicking through a manila folder and filling in a few lines.

"Rei and his party managed to snatch three of the planes before the Brit officer showed up; he got chased off, but with no casualties or damages to any material. All that Cornelia's got left now is a junker flight of four F-15s, not even "Kai" versions," Shi reported, ensnared in his own paperwork.

"We shouldn't dismiss them yet. From what I've gathered, this Hans Grimm has Luftwaffe training, and Cornelia probably still has enough resources left to upgrade those planes to modern fighting specs."

"So the two Russian squadrons we have now are going to see some action?"

"It appears so."

**20,000 feet above Sapporo, Hokkaido  
>2000 hours<strong>

Sure enough, four Russian mercenary pilots were patrolling the skies above the northern-most island in F-35J _Kaminari San_ Joint Strike Fighters, customized versions of the F-35C Lightning IIs purchased from Britannian nine years ago.

"_This is Luch Three, nothing to report," _Russian-accented Japanese came over the comm frequency.

"_Luch Four, same in my sector."_

"_Luch Two, quiet as the grave."_

The Luch Squadron leader, Dmitri Novikov, sighed tiredly. "This is Luch One to all planes, fall back into Formation Three and we'll round out the night with a few maneuvers."

"_Roger, Luch One."_

After a few seconds, three other F-35s roared into view from below the clouds, smoothly falling into formation, with two and three on his left and right, respectively, and four taking the trail position.

"Three, Four, you two are the second flight. Execute Maneuver 23C – Follow the Commissar."

"_Roger," _Luch Three replied, _"Number Four – stick to my six. You'll roll clockwise."_

"_Affirmative," _Four replied. He broke off with Three and fell into line, leaving the planes traveling in a box formation.

"On my mark… Mark!" Dmitri ordered, rolling hard left in sync with his wingman. Three and Four executed a sweeping right, rolling the whole way.

It was a professionally-orchestrated ballet. The planes swung around and their paths intersected five hundred feet later. Carefully leveling their airspeeds, each plane crossed through the same point successively, alternating between the two flights. Within ten seconds, they repeated the maneuver. This was repeated three more times, before they instead swept wide and away from each other. The two flights separated as each plane took to a cardinal direction and executed a rapid vertical climb. Leveling off upside-down at 27,000 feet, they moved to intercept each other at what seemed to be a collision course – until Dmitri dove straight downwards early, and three planes followed milliseconds later.

They fell into a straight line, spirally rapidly towards the earth. At the same point, the planes separated back in their cardinal directions, leaving barely three hundred feet between their fuselages and the ground.

"Excellent performance, comrades – reform on vector one-nine-zero, and we'll head back. No doubt Voskod Squadron is getting antsy," Dmitri said with a hint of amusement. The rest of the flight chuckled, and they fell back into a diamond formation at twenty-thousand feet, traveling at a leisurely cruising speed of four hundred miles per hour.

The storm was coming… And they would be the lightning, striking their deadly blows from the sky with impunity.

**September 21****st****, 2017 ATB  
>Taskforce 274, Toyama Prefecture<br>0700 hours**

In the early morning light, Cornelia's personal Gloucester rolled down in front of a formation of forty Sutherlands, each and every one of their pilots personally hand-picked for their reliability and skill. The Viceroy opened her cockpit and stood before the group, where every pilot stood at attention on their open seats.

"I have recently come across information in regards to the whereabouts of the Japan Liberation Front's main headquarters, which as you can surmise, is why you are all here," she started strongly. "Each of you has been selected for your skill with a Knightmare, and your dedication and loyalty to your homeland. In exactly forty-eight hours, this detachment, along with two other forces consisting of forty Sutherlands apiece and led by Generals Alex and Darlton, will assault the JLF's central headquarters on Mount Shirouma." There was little visible reaction to this revelation.

"We will be supported by the Army's Fifth and Eight Infantry Battalions, as well as two batteries of artillery, a company of medics, and the G-1's integrated medical bay. Enemy strength is estimated to be at least one full infantry brigade of three thousand, and a minimum of one mechanized battalion. It may appear that we are outnumbered; however, despite their numerical advantage, we are better trained and equipped than our outdated Eleven counterparts."

"We are _Britannian_; we are mentally and politically superior to these insolent vermin. The so-called "soldiers" of this country are relics of a by-gone era in history, and they shall die with their outdated beliefs!" Cornelia shouted, earning cheers from the assembled pilots.

"_**Long live Princess Cornelia! Hail Britannia!"**_

**Outside the assembly area  
>same time<strong>

A squad of Honorary Britannian soldiers stood by and watched the briefing. By the end, they were all sneering in distaste.

"We'll show you _outdated_, Britannia," one of them muttered venomously.

"It is your system which should've died centuries ago, along with your homeland," another spat.

"We are not ignorant like these pathetic _gaijin_; we have adapted, while Britannia still clings to their ignorance and misguided ideology, allowing themselves to be controlled by their bastard emperor," the third man said coldly, "We will be doing these fools a service by killing them and opening the eyes of their countrymen."

**JLF Central Command, Mount Shirouma  
>1000 hours<strong>

"Do we have a confirmation on their numbers?" Katase called out to the intelligence branch.

"Yes sir," a Warrant Officer replied dutifully, his eyes scanning over the reports in his hands. "We have confirmation of no more than three task groups of forty Sutherlands apiece, supported by two infantry battalions and two batteries of artillery. A small medical company will most likely be based beside the G-1 on the west side of the mountains, and their immediate reinforcements from the prefectural capital of Toyama couldn't amount to more than a third of their strike force. Also, there is no way that Cornelia will be able to field her new fighters unless she sent them out before repairs and updates are finished."

A number of the men in the room, Katase included, started chuckling at the report. Soon, it grew into uproarious laughter.

"Those _fools_!" Katase managed to gasp between rounds of barking laughter, "Do they not realize that we have over ten times their numbers in this sector _alone_?"

Everyone calmed, but Katase couldn't stop smirking. "Hokkaido is securely in the hands of our allies; we should be able to move on Kyushu with this new development," he analyzed.

"Yes sir; most of Britannia's forces in the home islands are based out of Tokyo, but they still maintain a sizable garrison out of Fukuoka base to deter any Chinese interference. It isn't much, can't be more than a brigade and a few supporting companies."

"Why exactly haven't we moved like this before, when that fool Clovis was in charge?" a radar operator interjected curiously.

"Clovis, even with all of his leadership faults, was at the very least intelligent enough to make sure that his chain of command was up-to-date and communicated with each other. When Cornelia arrived, she sacked Clovis's entire staff, focused only on their failures instead of their experience in the country and knowledge of the terrain; she replaced them all with her "battle-hardened" and "competent" officers, whom she trusted explicitly, but did not know the area or have any experience with our style of warfare," Katase explained. "Plus, we were still a bit scattered over the last six years; desertion and backstabbing were rampant, so we needed to reaffirm our ranks and consolidate our resources."

The occupants of the command center nodded in realization, and went about their duties. With a few seconds, however, a message blinked on one of the communication officers' screens.

"General, we have an incoming message from the Russian fighters."

"Put them on screen," Katase ordered. The large display blinked once, before the apathetic visage of Dmitri Novikov flashed into being. The man was somewhere around thirty-five, with icy blue eyes and slicked-back black hair.

"General, your escape route is lined out and secured; also, it appears that a small Chinese flotilla is base roughly eighty miles off shore to the north. Any naval action you may take is secured."

The previous day, Lelouch had sent his pilots to collaborate with the general's staff in plotting their backup routes; the Russians' F-35s had been loaded with airburst bombs, which in turn contained a mix of several dozen anti-infantry and anti-vehicle mines, which were spread over a wide area on either side of a broad route to the northeast. Additionally, the mercenary corps had apparently bribed a Chinese naval officer into carrying out a friendly skirmish between the territorial navies of Kamchatka and Shanghai in neutral waters off the west-central Japanese coast.

"You have my thanks and my payment, Mister Novikov," Katase replied gratefully. The Russian ace simply nodded and dropped his empty spare tanks over the mountainside before turning and burning with his flight back towards the northern island. The general then turned to another comms officer. "Get me a line to the artillery on Mount Yukikura – I think Cornelia may need a bit of a lesson in humility."

"_Hai, _Katase-taishou," the officer replied.

**Taskforce 274  
>1200 hours<strong>

Cornelia li Britannia… was _bored_. There was still a day and a half until the attack, and neither side appeared to be making a move. She sat upon her throne, toying with her replica cavalry pistol idly as the staff below went about their business.

Then, there was a bright flash.

As the startled princess regained her vision, she saw the front windows of the command center shattered, and the row of cargo trucks which used to sit barely a hundred yards from the center was reduced to scattered, flaming scrap metal.

The frontal bridge staff managed to stand, relatively unharmed except for a few cuts and scrapes from the flying glass and metal.

"What the hell just happened?" Cornelia demanded, still dazed from the blast.

"Ma'am, just from a cursory glance: precision artillery strike. They have someone inside the camp who planted a marker on the trucks, which they knew were loaded with fresh ammunition," the OSI analyst, Robinson, spoke up. "They're baiting us, it's a battlefield psych tactic; they're showing us that no matter how "superior" we are, they can still damage us. I would guess that their agent made a report about the earlier briefing and they decided to… offer their opinion on your speech."

The Viceroy growled in annoyance. "We can't retaliate because we have no idea where that strike originated, and because the vast majority of the facilities are most likely sheltered somehow. Damn it all…"

"With your permission, Your Highness, I would like to lead a scouting party into the mountains to get a feel for the terrain," an officer in the front volunteered, snapping to attention.

"Request denied; we've alright tried sending in several observation helicopters to map out the area. They were all shot down by shoulder-launched SAMs, meaning they patrol the mountains regularly. And by their estimated numbers, none of the patrols are smaller than full platoons of twenty men each," Cornelia said sternly. The officer looked surprised, but nodded nonetheless.

"The general area of the strike probably came from the middle of the mountains; we're relocating the encampment further into the prefecture."

"Yes, Your Highness!"

**Mt. Yukikura Artillery Base  
>1210 hours<strong>

"We have a confirmed hit on Cornelia's base! They're pulling back five miles!" the on-site comms officer announced, earning cheers from the gun crews. Of course, Cornelia could be in for another surprise at any given time they chose; the range at which they had hit the encampment had been a measly ten miles. The effective range of the twelve present FH-70 towed artillery pieces was fifteen miles, and that was unassisted by auxiliary power units. Their maximum range was eighteen miles, so even if the Viceroy moved her ammunition stores back further, they would still be able to hit them.

"Well gentlemen, we can't have Alex and Darlton feeling left out, now can we? Sight in and load the second and third volleys!"

"_Hai_, Taichou!"

**Government Bureau, Tokyo Settlement  
>1500 hours<strong>

Euphemia li Britannia stared out the window of her office, looking out on Tokyo Bay as it glimmered in the sunlight. She sighed wearily and turned her chair back to the desk, where a sizeable stack of paperwork sat, front and center.

There were several problems that Euphie had with Cornelia going out on these so-called "terrorist hunts." Chief among them was the fact that the teenage princess believed strongly in acquiring peace through negotiation and mutual understanding. Her elder sister, however, was an advocate and practitioner of speed and violence of action. The two sisters loved each other dearly, but their contrasting methodologies with foreign policy sometimes brought tension to their relationship.

The second issue was that Cornelia was usually gone for days at a time, leaving the rest of her beleaguered and underappreciated administrative staff swamped with the goings-on in the country. And occasionally, some of the paperwork _had _to be passed on to the Vice-Governor, along with honest and profuse apologies.

A vast amount of the work was usually the pathetic crowing of nobles about their losses of property and people to the escalating conflict. Today, however, a large part of the papers were in regards to the private military company to the north, which symbolically and almost politically controlled the island of Hokkaido. Several members of the upper echelon were pressuring the area government to press for the return of the territory, citing outlandish claims of "vast undiscovered wealth" and "stolen property." In truth, all that was valuable on the island was a relatively minor pocket of Sakuradite, only about ten percent of the country's stock. And honestly, the group was a neutral party, in almost every sense of the term. Their work neither helped nor hindered Britannian control of the country, and there was absolutely _no _observable terrorist activity in the area.

It was probably just embarrassed rage over the loss of territory on the part of the nobility, Euphie mused. Britannia's principles had permanently imbedded into the blue-bloods an overwhelming sense of pride, which had a tendency to get them killed at fairly young ages, compared to the middle-class life expectancy of eighty-five in civilian work.

The girl sighed and moved her pen to the next form, which to her surprise was actually a request directly from the neutral subject of her musings. She managed to get halfway through the sheet before the intercom buzzed.

"_Your Highness, an officer from the BPG is here to see you."_

"Send them up, please," she replied softly. A buzz of confirmation came, and she sat back and looked over the rest of the sheet. By the end of it, a knock came at the door. "Enter," she called.

The door clicked open softly, admitting a handsome teen, barely eighteen by the looks of him, with messy black hair and memorable amethyst eyes. He was dressed in a clean black business suit, and carrying a black briefcase with his company logo etched on the lid, a silver outline of a vulture with its wings spread. His features were sharp, almost regal, and his voice was soft, but charismatic and somewhat alluring.

"Princess Euphemia," he greeted, bowing slightly at the waist. Euphie smiled slightly. "My name is Lelouch Lamperouge; I'm a representative of the BPG."

"Well Mister Lamperouge, I understand that your group would like to have better security over your interests, but this is… a bit sudden." He simply chuckled.

"I understand completely; my companions threw even me off when they showed the proposal to me," he replied kindly. "All we ask is for your consideration; as you can imagine, our counterparts in the EU are beginning to grow nervous through with the rapidly growing tensions, so we're looking to solidify our establishments in East Asia. Simple business moves, I assure you; my father and his company are considering pulling out of our home in Germany and regrouping his resources in our territory, so I myself would like for him to have a good solid foundation to rebuild on. The company is mostly doing work for the Russian Federation at the moment as it is; we have little to no military interests in this theater."

It was heart-wrenching to Euphie to hear about a family business like this being displaced because of her father's expansionist mentality. "As much as it pains me to say it, my sister would definitely shoot this down out of sheer spite for your profession the moment she laid eyes on it," she said sadly, frowning as she looked down at the paper in her hands once more. "However… I may be able to do something about it if I were to gather some more information on the total action."

"Your consideration is most generous, Princess Euphemia," Lelouch smiled gratefully. "I would have to gather the full details from the administration in order to effectively brief you… which should probably take me the rest of the day. However, I could probably fill you in to the best of my ability, perhaps over lunch tomorrow?"

"That would be wonderful," Euphie replied happily.

"Excellent. Well, I need to make a stop off and check on the bookkeepers here in Tokyo. I can be back here around noon tomorrow, and we can decide on a location for the briefing." He bowed once more with a smile and turned on his heel.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then," she called as he stepped out. She smiled wistfully and leaned on the desk, her head resting on the tops of her hands.

'_It's just business, it's just business, it's just business…' _she had to keep repeating to herself like a mantra. He _was _very handsome; quite polite as well. Maybe… just maybe…

'_NO! Not a date, just business… or is it?'_

**Business Sector, Tokyo Settlement  
>1520 hours<strong>

A small, nondescript building nestled between two slightly larger structures was home to the "bookkeepers" of the BPG. Said "bookkeepers" were financial advisors and market trackers… and gun runners. If the military were to raid this facility, they would come face-to-face with several hundred assorted small arms and dozens of anti-material and crew-served weapons. This Tokyo branch was responsible for arming the numerous Panzer Group agents within the city, who in turn went about like local resistance fighters, working in the company's best interests (not necessarily the interests of either side of the ongoing conflict.)

Lelouch entered the building unmolested, perfectly aware that five different guards scattered around the street could've popped him a fifty-caliber round in the head at any given moment. His was a scattered organization; not all of them knew the face of their leader.

He approached the front desk, where a burly Russian man sat back in a plain steel chair with his feet propped up. He was dressed in a black suit with a pair of wraparound sunglasses, which were currently perched on his nose as he snored lightly.

Lelouch walked over beside the man and leaned on the desk. "GREG! YOUR EX IS HERE!"

The man smoothly transitioned to checking the contents of a bag beside him. "Pistol, passport, cellphone, Venezuelan I.D…" he then looked up at the person who had shouted and deadpanned. "Seriously, not cool boss," he said blankly with a thick accent.

"That's what you get for sleeping on the job. Now get your ass outta the chair and c'mon, I've gotta make this a quick trip. Your brother Dmitri is being shipped out to the Chinese Federation in an hour."

"Yes sir," Greg sighed, pulling himself upright and drawing himself to his full height, a good four inches over Lelouch. "Not much going on at the moment, I'm afraid; your little JLF venture has kept our boys plenty busy and relatively untouched."

"Just the way I like it," Lelouch replied. "So they've just been stopping for ammo occasionally?"

"_Da_. A few gun exchanges, depending on the mission, but otherwise just a few more rounds of NATO and Big Fifty."

"I'll remember to slow the ammunition supply to the station for the next month, then." He turned to leave. "Good work, Greg; and keep on your toes, I may have to send a few outsiders in this direction if they run through their stock as much as I expect them to."

"Got it, boss man. And send a woman over here sometime, dammit! The overwhelming testosterone is starting to get suffocating, and I was in the army."

"Duly noted," Lelouch sweat dropped. He left the building and stood at the curb for a moment, before a black 2013 Mitsubishi Eclipse pulled and opened its passenger door. Without hesitation, he climbed in, and the car drove off into Tokyo.

"Eleven hours, thirty-four minutes to go…"

* * *

><p><strong>Profile – Black Panzer Group<strong>

**Organization  
><strong>Executive Office (Sapporo)  
>Metropolitan Branches<br>- Tokyo Settlement – Business Sector  
>- City of Kyoto<br>- Nagoya Settlement – Commercial District  
>- Yamaguchi Settlement – Downtown<br>Field Branches  
>- Fuji Mines<br>- South Hida Mountains  
>- Island of Hokkaido (7 official branches)<br>- Fukuoka Base & surrounding area  
>- Outside of New Narita, Chiba Prefecture<p>

**Standard Weaponry  
>Assault Rifle:<strong> H&K G-36A2 (5.56x45mm NATO), Izmash AK-47 (7.62x39mm M43/M67)  
><strong>Sidearm:<strong> H&K USP Elite (.45 ACP), Glock 17/18 (9x19 Parabellum)  
><strong>Machine Gun:<strong> Izmash Pecheng machine gun (7.62x54mmR), Mk. 48 LMG (7.62x51mm NATO)  
><strong>Sniper Rifle:<strong> Remington M24 (7.62x51mm NATO), Accuracy International L115A3 (.338 Lapua Magnum)  
><strong>Anti-Tank:<strong> RPG-7 (85mm), RPG-29 (105mm)  
><strong>Anti-Air:<strong> KBM Igla SA-24 (72mm), Toshiba Type 91 Kai (80mm)  
><strong>Fast-Attack Vehicle (FAV):<strong> 2015 Toyota Tacoma Pickup (1x 12.7mm PKM HMG or 1x 40mm grenade launcher), GAZ-2975 (varies)  
><strong>Armored Personnel Carrier (APC):<strong> BTR-90 APC, BTR-82 APC, Jiang Hong Type 92 APC  
><strong>Infantry Fighting Vehicle (IFV):<strong> BMP-3, Land Rover Defender (1x 14mm HMG)  
><strong>Main Battle Tank (MBT):<strong> T-90, Type 10

**Brief Overview**

_The Schwarz Panzergruppe, or Black Panzer Group (BPG) is a German private military company (PMC) derived from and connected to another such company in the State of Germany. Although fairly small for such an organization, the BPG is well armed and financed by their counterparts in the EU. The group controls several mining, agricultural, and commercial interests on the northernmost island of Hokkaido, and has several security contracts with the NAC throughout Honshu and Kyushu._

* * *

><p><strong>Translations<br>****(1) **– "A penny for your thoughts, Viceroy?" (German)  
><strong>Beruhige dich<strong> – Calm yourself (German)  
><strong>Tenshu<strong> – Divine Punishment (Japanese)  
><strong>Nicht<strong> – No (German)  
><strong>Lebewohl<strong> – Goodbye (German)  
><strong>Nipponese <strong>– Japanese (Japanese)


	6. Act 2 Pt 2

**A/N: Let the battle begin! Just to explain the numbers scheme, since Britannia is fighting a war on **_**several**_** different fronts, the most they could afford to keep in Japan was **_**maybe **_**a minimal division, approximately 10,000 soldiers. That group is mostly spread out throughout the islands, with probably a brigade of maybe 4,000 in Tokyo. Cornelia can't just go gallivanting around with the entire brigade unless she wants terrorists to take over the settlement while she's gone, so she can only afford to take two battalions of it, about 500-600 soldiers apiece. Is your head spinning from the numbers yet? I know mine was when I first had to research all of the damn stuff… I mostly made up the JLF with my minimal knowledge of the general layout, but I actually based most of the Britannian numbers off of the current U.S. Army infantry. **

**Lelouch is one of the commanders of the BPG in Japan, and is responsible for arranging contracts with the NAC and resistance groups. They have no interests in the war in Japan except for the Sakuradite (which they mine a small portion of and send back to their counterparts) and the growing number of financial opportunities in the area. **

**Finally, Lelouch and Euphemia ARE NOT RELATED IN HERE. Any relationship that might develop would not be considered incest. (Keyword is MIGHT – you'll find out later.) Just clarifying for any people with certain… distastes that might be reading this. **

**Did I miss anything…? Meh, I'll burn that bridge later. Enjoy the newest installment.**

* * *

><p><strong>September 21<strong>**st****, 2017 ATB  
>West Toyama Prefecture, near Hida Mountains<br>0700 hours**

Several unmarked freight trains trundled up the line as a squad of Honorary Britannians stood by near the station, decked out in full combat gear, their features hidden by the visors of their helmets. One gestured to the rest as the trains slowed to a stop, and the group scattered as more soldiers poured out of a handful of passenger cars, moving to pull open the heavy doors and unload the cargo. Suddenly, scores of Sutherlands with a smattering of Gloucesters in their ranks roared out of the cars, carrying assault rifles, shields, and a few lances. More infantry also jumped down, bringing down heavy metal ramps which were placed to allow the handful of tanks aboard to disembark. In the whole scheme of the things, the numbers were relatively small; but the entrance was still quite impressive.

Ishitora contemplated this from his location next to one of the trains, dressed in a Britannian uniform. Honestly, in huge operations like this, personnel security was absolute _shit_. It was almost laughably easy for him and his subordinates to slap on the uniforms and take the place of the collaborating squad, and BAM! They were mere feet away from the enemy's most vulnerable stage, seconds before the start of their own operation.

He keyed the mike inside the helmet's built-in chemical filter. "Kellerman, stand by at the way station; we are t-minus thirty to start time." 'Kellerman,' Takao's infiltration alias, gave a simple click of confirmation before calming striding off, his P90 still slung over his shoulder. Soon, the rest of the squad was beside different train cars, scattered in an odd pattern. Ishitora pulled a simple wireless trigger from his vest, and flicked the cap open whilst finding a perch on the edge of the car. With a very unceremonious gesture, he mashed the button, causing numerous strips of C-4, attached to the axles of the cars _without _his troops beside them, to detonate, and making the cars topple over grandly on top of the offloading soldiers.

Takao made a good show of looking alarmed. "This is Unit 462, the trains have been sabotaged! I repeat, the trains have been sabotaged! Investigate the immediate area and find the perpetrators!" The rest of the Britannian soldiers around him, not even registering that he was a part of the Honorary Britannian Corps, went about rushing between the cars, attempting to pull survivors from beneath the steel-plated wreckage.

The collaborator squad, now coming back into the picture, rushed onto the scene and gestured threateningly to Ishitora and his disguised men. "THERE THEY ARE! WE HAVE INFILTRATORS DISGUISED AS SQUAD THIRTEEN-CHARLIE!"

The JLF men yanked off their full-face helmets in favor of _actual_ metal helmets, and went about firing wildly as they ran towards the nearest patches of foliage and into the forest. A good portion of the present infantry chased after them, while Takao went and regrouped with the collaborators. He passed an intact train car and pulled open the door, allowing a second squad in HB uniforms to disembark and follow after the search party.

"Good show, boys; let's wrap it up and head to the front." He took up his P90, a gesture mirrored by the rest of the squad, and began moving between the handfuls of remaining Britannians, cutting them down with 9mm rounds. Any survivors beneath the trains were off-handedly decapitated on simple passing thoughts, and demolitions were set on any vehicles and equipment deemed even _remotely _salvageable. They had issues with one tank that had an active turret, but a few blocks of plastic explosive made the crew plenty hospitable. Or rather dead, but that was pretty much the closest a Brit was going to get in this day and age.

Within a minute, there was silence in the makeshift military train yard, apart from the occasional crackle of a burning vehicle hulk. The squad regrouped and quickly tossed their disguises into the petroleum-fueled blaze, leaving them in their normal camouflage and web gear. Balaclavas and helmets were hastily donned as the men rushed for the trees, heading in the direction that the Knightmares and faster infantry had gone. By the time the fruitless pursuit ended and the search party had returned, the area was quiet as the grave, and a Britannian flag was perched on a paper-wrapped steel rod, smoldering as it slowly drifted away in the breeze.

"These damned Elevens definitely have a thing for symbolism…" one of the men grumbled, his throat suddenly going dry as he glanced downwards at the eviscerated skull of one of his comrades. "And let's not ever forget thoroughness, either…"

The sun was rising over the peaks of the mountains in front of them, and by now, _none _of them were at all thrilled about having to meet their "neighbors". Off to the side, the dummy collaborator squad snickered maliciously into their respirators.

* * *

><p><strong>Cornelia's Field HQ<br>0720 hours**

"What the hell do you _mean _the trains EXPLODED? Was it an artillery strike or a direct attack?" The Second Princess demanded vigorously, glaring at the sergeant in front of her as if willing him to burst into flames.

The man, quite admirably, even to her, kept a cool countenance as he elaborated. "What I mean to say, ma'am, is that the trains were previously sabotaged; someone planted explosives underneath all of the cars with Knightmares in them."

This made Cornelia stop and do a double-take. The trains had been under guard by an entire battalion PLUS armor, and the JLF had still managed to pull it off. "Well do we have any evidence of how the perpetrators carried out this action?"

"There was a squad of JLF troops disguised as Honorary Britannians waiting for us when we hit the launching point, ma'am; and the squad they had taken the place of came along shortly after the blast and helped to chase them off. If I may just make a side note, Your Highness, this is far too thorough to have been collaboration; the returning squad was right there with us the whole time, and when we got back, everybody was dead. There must've been a second group hiding nearby that came back when we were gone and finished the job."

"Your report and professional analysis are greatly valued, sergeant; return to your squad and fall back to the rally point," she sighed wearily. The man saluted smoothly and exited the G-1 rapidly.

Cornelia groaned and collapsed back onto the throne, staring down at the tactical display in the front. So far, no significant red signals had appeared, meaning that the JLF were using infantry to soften them up.

'_I really should've requisitioned another regiment from the homeland…' _she sighed inside, fully realizing her mistake. _'Not to mention I should've just used VTOL insertions or convoys.'_

Normally, sending an entire attack force in via aircraft was greatly frowned upon, due to the fact that each and every plane was just another slow-moving target for AA gunners; but this time, ground movements were probably her undoing, especially with the recent revelation that the Japanese infantry were _far _superior in individual skill than her foot soldiers. Additionally, the other side apparently utilized tanks much better than her own forces. Then again, a large number of any weaponry based on the principle of a big and powerful gun could be devastating in almost anyone's hands.

"Call off the immediate advance and have all units fall back to their rally positions; move the artillery in and have them begin shelling the mountains."

"Yes, Your Highness!"

"Boy, I really screwed this one up right outta the gate…" Cornelia slumped in her seat, one hand massaging her forehead. "What the hell was I thinking? They have better soldiers, they know how to use their equipment to its greatest effectiveness, and we're on THEIR home field… Dammit!"

"If I may, Your Highness," Guilford spoke up, suddenly materializing next to the throne. She jumped a bit and snapped back,

"Dammit man, haven't I told you to quit doing that?"

He seemed to smirk a bit. "My apologies, Your Highness, but I think I may have a few suggestions for you on this matter."

"You either do or you don't, there is no MAY about it. Give 'em if you've got 'em."

* * *

><p><strong>JLF Forward Command Center<br>0750 hours**

"Cornelia's pulling back her Knightmares and sending in artillery and infantry; looks like she's becoming better accustomed to this area's battlefield conditions," a major commented, watching as the red kanji symbols drew back further from the mountain.

"Should we send a company in a flanking motion?" a sergeant major asked from beside him. The officer shook his head and pointed to the rear flanks of the Britannian forces.

"They have a large concentration of armor and automatic weapons gathered near both flanks; unnecessary losses are all that we'd get out of it." The NCO's expression shifted to realization, and he nodded.

"So then what're we gonna do? Send a few guys in through the tunnels and raise hell?"

"You've been watching too much Britannian television; getting those damnable Western colloquialisms imbedded in your brain," the major reprimanded. "No, we are not sending men behind enemy lines via our trump card to "raise hell," we are in fact leaving the majority of this operation to our air forces."

"The fly boys? They never helped us during the first invasion, what good are they going to do us now?" The sergeant was promptly smacked upside the head by his superior. "Sorry, sir; I meant the fighter pilots."

"That's better," the major growled. "And the air force didn't become involved in the invasion because of the army's grudge against them; the ground forces' chain of command heavily influenced Prime Minister Kururugi, who denied aerial assistance as a result."

"Hn. I say to hell with them; I bet they wouldn't have been much help anyways, because of all of those Knightmares." The major turned towards the sergeant, glaring harshly.

"I'll have you know, sergeant, that my younger brother is a pilot; I've seen what twenty millimeter guns can do to a Knightmare's armor, and it sure as hell would've been a lot better than having dozens of our tanks trying to turn their cannons around fast enough to hit a moving Glasgow." A number of the other occupants of the center now turned to stare down the rapidly paling sergeant; a few scattered troops bore the markings of the Air Self-Defense Force. The man quickly bowed his head apologetically and stuttered out some excuse about checking the perimeter before scurrying out. A number of the other NCOs scoffed once he was out the door.

"Fucking bastard wouldn't even stick to his guns…" the major grumbled. "Now what does that say about the rest of my pathetic battalion? Sigh… I guess that's what happens when I take the college students." His comrades shook their heads sympathetically.

"Alright people, let's get ATC on the line!"

* * *

><p><strong>Narita Base Air Traffic Control<br>0800 hours**

"_ATC, this is FCC Kawase-Tabako-Nagoya, we are confirming rearward movement of Britannian forces. Requesting immediate aerial strike against Britannian encampments, all of them."_

"Roger, FCC, we're sending out TFS Twenty-Two, Twenty-Three and Twenty-Four. Hold for strike, and standby with markers," the controller replied immediately. He turned and gestured across the room to a colonel, who keyed his earpiece.

"Rei, you glorious bastard, get out there and show those Brits what Japan thinks of their "ethnic superiority"," he spat the quote mockingly.

"_Roger, Colonel; the Shinigimai's Messengers aim to please."_

* * *

><p><strong>Hangar 2A<strong>

The hangar's twin hydraulic aircraft catapults snapped back into their launch positions, hooking onto the two waiting aircraft, the last two flight leads.

"_Good luck out there, Rei; let's shown Britannian the strength of a Nation Reborn," _the 23rd TFS squadron leader, Captain Kentaro Yoroi, gave a two-fingered salute from the cockpit of his F-2. Rei returned the gesture and buckled the straps on his oxygen mask.

"Same to you, Kent. Let's go kick some Britannian ass."

The launch officer waved them off with a final stiff salute as the blast shields went up behind the pair of fighters, and both of their single Turbofan engines warmed up readily. Within two seconds, the catapult snapped forward, and the pair went flying out of the hangar, leaving them to drift slightly downwards for an instant before gaining full control and swinging upwards.

They were soon greeted by nine F-15Js and one other F-2A, the latter being the 24th TFS lead. The lazily meandering planes seemed to snap to attention mid-flight, executing several high-G turns and falling in behind the flight leads. The F-15s were all decked out with their new Russian heat – 30mm cannons and R-73 short-range missiles (SRMs). The only original weapons fixtures left were the bombs; each of the Eagles carried four UGBs, unguided bombs.

The flight leads' F-2s were the only craft with the majority of their original armaments. While every aircraft in the facility had at the very least received the GSh-301 30mm, their planes were equipped with AIM-9 Sidewinder SRMs and Mitsubishi AAM-4s. In addition, their fighters came equipped with J/AAQ-2 Forward-Looking Infrared (FLIR) systems.

Rei, despite not being the _ranking _presence in the group, opened a line to issue orders. "Alright, Crane Squadron will engage Viceroy Cornelia's encampment. Wolf, you guys will go out and greet Darlton. Lightning, Alex is all yours."

"_Roger, Crane 1. Good bombing."_

"Same to you, _Ookami_. _Kaminari_, hit 'em hard and fast."

"_Affirmative, Tsuru 1. Give Cornelia a good one for all of us, neh?"_

"You've got it, Sai. Alright, SCATTER!"

The fighters quickly did just that, breaking off in separate direction and moving to a high altitude to avoid visual detection. Of course, the Britannians DID had radar, but they wouldn't be able to do jack-shit about it.

* * *

><p><strong>Hida Mountains, East Side<br>Andreas Darlton's Detachment  
>0810 hours<strong>

Each of the detachment commanders had their own G-1 bases, simply due to the odd surplus which they seemed to have around the area. Darlton, apparently slightly wiser than his sworn Princess, had disembarked his troops five miles away from the actual pre-designated unloading zone, and therefore already had all of his troops inside the perimeter of his encampment by the time he received word of the trains exploding. Investigation was totally redundant, of course; he had experience fighting the Self-Defense Forces, and despite the fact that Britannian Knightmares had whipped them in the Second Pacific War, the debacle with Tohdoh's ground infantry forces at Itsukushima had been quite the sobering and enlightening experience.

The scar-faced general stood and lazily strode down to the radar consoles, where the operators seemed to be having panic attacks.

"What is it _now_?" he groaned, leaning over the console and staring at the screen. He was greeted by four green blips, approaching at high speed. "Knightmares, and only four of them?"

"N-no, sir; this is the aerial detection system," the operator stuttered in shock. Andreas' eyes widened quite noticeably, and he dashed over to the radio operator. He snatched up the headset and opened all available local frequencies.

"ALL UNITS, INCOMING FIGHTER BOMBERS! FIND COVER IMMEDIATELY! I REPEAT, WE HAVE FIGHTER JETS INCOMING! _FIND COVER!_" The panicked announcement was punctuated as an explosion rocked the mobile command center, followed by screaming over all frequencies.

"_General, we just lost half of Tank Company C- oh god, GET DOWN!"_ Another explosion came, rocking the complex even harder than the first. The general was tossed to the floor as a third and fourth boomed like thunder, knocking over the rest of the unseated bridge crew.

"What the hell was that NOW?" he demanded, turning back to the radioman.

"Sir, it was ammo dump! I don't know how they did it, but they dropped one right in the tree line and hit the ammunition storage!"

"WHAT? That was our entire stock of ammunition until the Nagoya group arrives!"

"It can't be helped sir, it all just- HOLY SHIT, THEY'RE COMING AROUND!"

This time, 30mm rounds started tearing into the base itself, shredding a handful of clustered technicians into bloody scraps. A second stream came in and tore an actual hole in the roof, which was followed quickly by a third stream flying through and ricocheting around the interior. The radio went silent as it and its operator were eviscerated by the cannon rounds.

"Don't we have rockets or machine guns or SOMETHING for this kind of thing?" Darlton demanded, glancing to the supply officer. He cringed as the man in question pulled himself into a crouch, clutching at a nasty wound in his thigh.

"Ugh- I think we m-might have a few mini guns on the Humvees sir, but the only other option we might have is a maybe a half-dozen Javelin missiles." Succumbing to his wounds, the man was quickly dragged from the room by a medic.

"Are they still out there?"

The anonymous question was answered as jet engines screeched overhead, and a final chorus of explosions came before the sounds faded into a deathly silence. The survivors were almost afraid to look.

Once they did, they found the encampment to be in absolute _ruin_. Numerous craters marked the ground where bombs and other property had detonated, and wood and metal shrapnel decorated the area, varying from roughly the size of pencils to chunks and sheets in the likes of boulders. Of course the burning hulks of tanks, APCs and IFVs stood out greatly amongst the scarred landscape. The worst was the deep crimson pools and mangled corpses that stood along with the wreckage, while troops and medics scurried about, trying to tend to the screams of the dying.

"Can somebody tell me where the HELL those planes came from?"

"Sir, we believe that the JLF have several hangars scattered in the mountains; the most likely origin was their central facility on Mount Shirouma."

"Well then rally the troops; we're assuming that the other two camps were hit as well, so we're going in!"

"Yes sir!"

* * *

><p><strong>Cornelia's Field HQ<br>same time**

"Those bastard Elevens…" the Viceroy growled to herself deeply, staring down from the roof of the bullet-riddled G-1 at the carnage that had resulted from the bombing. In her left hand, she clutched a rolled up white sheet, which had been dropped by the presumed lead plane once the bombs stopped falling.

She took the sheet and practically ripped off the string which held it closed. It was unfurled by a slight breeze, and was decorated with a single red circle.

The flag of Japan.

The Britannian soldiers below stared upwards as their commander took the flag in both hands and ripped it half, before tossing the two pieces into the air and firing at them wildly with her sidearm as they fluttered to the dirt.

"ALL UNITS, LOAD UP AND PREPARE TO MOVE! WE WILL ATTACK IN TWENTY MINUTES!"

"**YES, YOUR HIGHNESS!"**

* * *

><p><strong>JLF Central Command<br>0820 hours**

"So, I take it the strike went well?" Katase turned to the radio operator, who gave a thumbs-up and turned back to his station. The old general chuckled and turned back to the tactical display, which was currently showing a twenty-mile radius, thanks to the pair of E-767 jammer/command & control (C2) aircraft which circled the area. "It appears that the Viceroy is too impatient to wait for her reinforcements less than ten miles away."

"Sir, we've just received a report from the spotter garrison on Yukikura," a messenger dashed into the room holding a single sheet. Katase grabbed it and sped through the page, his eyes widening as he growled in anger.

"How the hell did their spotter get into our perimeter?"

"It's unknown at the moment, sir, but we've already taken care of him. However, we've confirmed the loss of most of Third Battalion, as well as a small chunk of Fifth."

"Reorganize and refold the survivors from Third into Fifth; relocate the position a mile to the west, and then send out the engineers to start assembling dummy camps on that side of the mountain."

"Yes, sir."

"And have the Eighth and Thirteenth Infantry divisions and the Seventh Armored moved south yet?"

"Yes, general; Seventh Infantry and Eighth Armored are moving overland, while the Thirteenth is being shipped in by sea to hit Fukuoka and Shikoku."

"Excellent. Have the eastern submarine screen set on high alert; Cornelia may have called in assistance from the Royal Britannian Navy base at Oahu."

"About that, general…"

* * *

><p><strong>Yokosuka Port<br>0825 hours**

A small fleet of six troopships, four destroyers, three cruisers, a battleship and an aircraft carrier was anchored in Tokyo Bay, while transports went back and forth between the docks and the ships, offloading equipment, supplies and soldiers.

The commander of this fleet, Admiral Samuel Carlson, oversaw the operation from a watchtower on the edge of the port facilities.

"Your arrival is a great relief, Admiral," one of the local bureaucrats greeted as he made his way up the ladder. "We of the late Prince Clovis's staff realize fully that Viceroy Cornelia and her people have much more combat experience; however, they have denied our efforts to fully brief them on the situation."

"It's understandable with newly-arrived officers," the admiral replied. "Where is the Viceroy at this moment?"

"Despite our best efforts to deter a large military debacle, the princess is currently… attempting to lay siege to the Japan Liberation Front's headquarters. I say attempting because in her last update, a large portion of the task group was put out of action by a bombing raid."

Samuel was mildly surprised. "A bombing raid? Huh, never heard of a resistance group using fighter or bomber aircraft…"

"Well sir, the thing is that this group is the former Japan Self-Defense Force… They still have most of their original soldiers and assets."

"Why exactly were said assets not confiscated or destroyed?"

"They were never actually found after the initial invasion, sir. They were either hidden by the military in facilities which are yet undiscovered, or they have been controlled by the National Advisory Council, the NAC."

"So why has nothing been done about this NAC?" the admiral inquired in annoyance.

"They currently have political impunity, sir. By surrendering the majority of their property, and also considering the fact that they run a large portion of the Sakuradite mining operations, they've been guaranteed free reign over their remaining national resources for at least another three years."

"Terrible national policy…" Samuel grumbled unabashedly. The local officer flushed in embarrassment, but couldn't refute the statement.

"Well, we can't go back on it now… Prince Clovis was looking to appease the rebellious natives, and keep them from detonating their own Sakuradite supplies. It's worked so far, but with this recent rekindling of national terrorism… We just can't be sure anymore."

"Sigh… I'll forget about the NAC for the moment; right now, we need to help the Viceroy."

"I'm afraid it may be too later, sir; she's attacking with her entire force within the next few minutes, and she had no idea how badly she's outmatched."

* * *

><p><strong>Taskforce 274<br>0830 hours**

"ALL UNITS, ATTACK!" Cornelia shouted, sending her Gloucester dashing forward alongside her royal guards. Within seconds, a pair of automated 30mm cannon turrets appeared from the underbrush, firing into the ranks of her unit.

The guardsmen scattered as the princess dashed forward, lance in one hand and 25mm assault rifle in the other. The furthest turret was blown to pieces by a hail of rifle fire, and the nearest was rendered inoperable as it was skewered by her lance.

Soldiers and armor appeared from the trees, aiming large-caliber guns, rockets and machine guns at the oncoming Knightmares and troops. A platoon of twelve Sutherlands broke off to engage the obviously heavier than common tanks, while two infantry platoons scattered into the woods.

Cornelia's unit surged onward, totally disregarding the daunting numbers appearing throughout the woods and engaging her forces. Soon, mortars and artillery were added to the mix.

"COME ON, ELEVENS! IS THERE NO ONE BRAVE ENOUGH TO CHALLENGE CORNELIA LI BRITANNIA?"

She almost regretted those words, as three separate lifts disembarked an eight-unit platoon of Heavy Assault Burai, along with six modified regular Burai.

"_Encircle her unit and provide suppressing fire for the fast attack squad!" _the JLF unit leader ordered, raising his Heavy's 120mm cannon and firing a Sabot round into one of Cornelia's guardsmen. The round tore through his cockpit, blowing out the hatch in a bloody spray and slicing into the trees.

His men were apparently emboldened by his example, as they scattered quickly and started engaging the Gloucesters with Heavy Slash Harkens, cannons, and 95mm linear-fire mortars.

The standard Burai stayed behind their heavier counterparts, taking pot shots at the guards with 35mm heavy assault rifles and under-barrel 60mm grenade launchers.

"Cowards! Fight like real men!" one of the royal guardsmen taunted, lunging towards a Burai with his lance held outward. His frame was stopped as a pair of Slash Harkens wrapped around its upper arms, and the lance was yanked away by a third Harken.

"_There's a defining line between a man and a fool, and an even greater divide between a fool and a soldier," _the unit leader spoke gravely, his rifle held beside the Britannian's cockpit block. His point was punctuated as he pulled the trigger. A 35mm round tore through one side and out the other, along with copious amounts of blood and eviscerated body parts.

The unit commander was unfortunately repaid as Cornelia's lance ran through the front of his frame, passing through the Sakuradite core and causing it to spontaneously explode.

"_Taichou!"_ his troops shouted, stepping up their assault. Two more guardsmen fell, and Cornelia was soon left with only six of her original twelve guards.

The standard Burai now opened up their assault, jumping swiftly from the foliage and revealing their new weapons, custom-made titanium-nitride melee weapons, most of which were katanas and bladed tonfas.

"_Kill the guardsmen and neutralize Cornelia's unit! Dismember it and drag her out if you have to!" _the apparent second-in-command ordered, charging in with his twin tonfas.

"_You never learn, do you Cornelia?" _a new arrival chuckled at her predicament.

"What? Who is this?"

A six-unit squad of six blue Sutherlands with orange shoulder pauldrons charged into the fray, stabbing their Stun Tonfas into the Heavy Burai. Cornelia finally recognized the voice and the units.

"Jeremiah Gottwald? You were killed in Saitama Ghetto!"

"_The rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated," _the Purist chuckled, unloading his rifle's clip into a heavy unit. _"Now if you would care to disregard your idiotic fanaticism for ten minutes, I think ALL of us would find living to be a great alternative to death in the Japanese wilderness."`_

The Viceroy bit back a scathing retort at the jab, opting to instead follow Jeremiah and his squad back the way she and hers had come.

She was shocked by the carnage. "Holy… how long has it been? Ten minutes? Five?"

"_Three minutes, Your Highness. The Japanese butchered half of the task force in three minutes."_

Bodies and shattered hulks of vehicles littered the trail, as JLF soldiers scoured the wreckage for their own, and anything salvageable. They turned to glare at the Britannian party, gesturing threateningly with their anti-tank weapons, but leaving them unscathed nonetheless. A pair of Burai followed the party at a good distance, their cannons trained on the Gloucesters and Sutherlands.

"H-how…" Cornelia stuttered to herself, appalled by the results of her own recklessness and rage.

"_They are a nation's army, Princess Cornelia," _Jeremiah explained solemnly, _"They are both the military of this country, and a symbol of their people's indomitable will. You are going about this entirely wrong; these people are not some poorly-equipped terrorist fanatics. These are trained soldiers, motivated by the sight of their once proud nation under our rule, and determined to force us all the way back to the sea… and who knows, they may even decide to repay the favor if they succeed." _His tone hardened. _"So quit fighting with your careless "I can kill you with a glance" mindset! They are DEMANDING that you fight them like you would fight real soldiers of a real military! And you should be damned ready to oblige them! Otherwise, what kind of leader are you? Your father, with his massive armies of pawns, who he tells to go jump through a meat grinder, and leaves his underlings to figure out the most effective way to do it without dying?"_

As shocked and slightly angered as she was by the man's blatantly insubordinate attitude, Cornelia knew he was right. The sight of her troops being tended to and escorted away by the Elevens… no, the Japanese soldiers, was quite the sobering catalyst.

When they arrived back at the camp, her troops were being tended to by what few Britannian medics were left, alongside a handful of Japanese medical personnel. There were no JLF combat troops left in the area, as they had all fallen back to their previous positions in the forest and the mountain side.

The head medic of the JLF approached Cornelia's Gloucester as she came down on the line. The man had a Britannian look to him, with features barely distinguishable from a middle-class workman. The only tell was the short-cropped slate colored hair and black eyes.

"Viceroy," he greeted monotonously. "On behalf of General Katase and Colonel Tohdoh, we are offering our assistance for the moment."

"You have my gratitude," she replied quietly. One of the medics jogged up behind his superior and murmured something in Japanese, at which the man nodded and turned back to the princess.

"And for now, we have stabilized your numbers; the rest is up to your people." He accepted a medical bag offered by one of his subordinates, and offered a slight salute. "I realize that it is totally against any standard protocol to offer advice to the enemy, but I simply must say: Don't pull another stupid stunt like this again, or my superiors won't be so merciful next time." A Komatsu Light Assault Vehicle pulled up beside him, and he jumped into the open rear passenger seat. "_Ja ne_, Princess Cornelia. May we never meet again." The jeep took off along with two others down the trail, kicking up dust in their wake.

She turned back to her assembled officers; or what was left of them. At least half had been replaced by their NCO counterparts, who were simply shooting her hard stares. No doubt they had been closer to the action than their commissioned bosses.

"Pack everything in and get ready to move; we're heading back to Tokyo."

Everyone present was in shock as an impassive Cornelia walked off towards the bullet-riddled G-1.

Jeremiah stood on the seat of his Sutherland, alongside Kewell, Villetta, and three other Purists… at least, most thought them to be Purists. He shook his head sadly and sat back down, reactivating the unit.

"Come on; we need to report back to Sapporo."

"_Yes sir."_

* * *

><p><strong>Government Bureau<br>1200 hours**

Euphie sat behind her desk with a smile as she read through a novel as she waited. As worried as she was about the news of Cornelia's apparent failure, she was still looking forward to her lunch with Lelouch.

'_Business deal, business deal,' _she had been chanting like a mantra in her head for the past hour, remembering the teen's position in this situation. _'Helping him and his family…'_

'… _And perhaps enjoying myself a little at the same time.'_

She was shaken from her thoughts as the intercom buzzed. _"Princess Euphemia, the BPG representative is here."_

"Tell him I'll be right down," she replied, putting the book in her bag and checking over her desk once more before turning to leave. She had dyed her pink hair to a platinum blond, and put it into a ponytail, and was dressed in a simple white blouse and yellow knee-length skirt. She shouldered her bag and made sure to lock the office door on her way out. Since the paperwork load was relatively light, the admins had assured her it wouldn't be too much trouble to take care of it themselves. She had nodded gratefully and offered an apology, to which the female secretary had smiled and dismissed it.

The elevator descended to the main hall, where Lelouch sat patiently, one leg over the other, reading a novel of his own. She managed to catch the title on her way past.

"Tom Clancy's _Debt of Honor_?" she questioned with an amused smirk. The dark-haired teen simply smiled and folded the corner of the page, placing the book in his briefcase.

"Clancy had an excellent grasp of modern politics and international markets and trade in his time, and still does today. It's more to pass the time than a dedicated speed-read," he shrugged with a sheepish smile. He clicked the latches shut and stood, stretching to his full height, a good three inches over Euphie. He was dressed in a pair of black jeans and a black hooded sweatshirt, underneath which she could just spot a black muscle shirt. "Shall we, Your Highness?"

"Indeed we shall," she giggled, following along as he made his way to a side elevator down to the garages. Once arrived, they didn't have to walk far before a pair of parking lights flashed.

It was an Aston Martin DB9, a relatively quiet sports car, and it appeared to be customized for speed _and _comfort.

"An EU model?" she inquired.

"My sixteenth birthday present from my father," Lelouch replied proudly. "He was on leave in London and decided to ship me a little special something." He made his way around the car like a salesman trying to reel in a potential buyer, "Custom VIP edition with eco-friendly electric motor, still big enough to crank out just as much horsepower as a diesel, mind you; automatic re-inflating tires – never worry about those pesky flats again! Chaff and flare dispensers under the tail lights; and finally, a pair of 7.62 millimeter machine guns built in behind the headlights."

"Sounds like something Sister would drive," Euphie commented dryly. He chuckled in amusement.

"The life of a mercenary is a dangerous one; we can never be too careful."

She climbed into the passenger seat and was about to inquire further, but decided against it. The car started up quietly, and smoothly backed out and maneuvered through the garage back to the exit. He was waved through immediately, no questions asked, which completely slipped Euphie's mind as they cruised easily through the thoroughfare and onto the elevated highway. Once there, he tapped the touch screen on the dash and put in a destination before sitting back as the car took control.

"Damn thing is smarter than me sometimes…" he grumbled as they continued on, admiring the scenery of the settlement. Euphie giggled.

"Yes, it just seems like technology is going to become smarter than us and destroy us one day," she laughed lightly, thinking about all of those cliché types movies being released lately. He gave a small chuckle as well.

"Seems like it… I just hope it's the everyday appliances _before _the Knightmares, at the very least."

"Oh, I don't know; I think I'd like to have one last cup of coffee before the end of humanity."

He let out a hearty laugh. "Yeah, I suppose you're right," he conceded. They sank into a comfortable silence. Then she remembered the conversation in the garage.

"So, Lelouch… What exactly do you do with your company?"

"Me? I'm mostly a liason between the field commanders and our clientele. I'm also an assault specialist; for those rare jobs which have a tendency to… _offend _some people."

"Oh… I see…" she said quietly. "So then… have you… _killed _anyone before, then?"

His visage darkened. "Even if I am a mercenary, I try to leave the killing part of the job to those who are more than prepared to do it every day. I try to subdue my targets if I can; however…" he sighed tiredly, "Sometimes the death is unavoidable. I've killed dozens; men and women, sometimes even right in front of their families and friends. It's… not a pleasant act."

She stifled a gasp as he seemed to stare into space, his face expressionless in deep contemplation.

"Why… why do you do it?"

He suddenly gave a humorless laugh. "I honestly don't know, princess. I could've chosen a profession with the administration, but instead I chose to follow after dear old dad and become an agent. But I just find it hard to live like this anymore. I've killed people, gotten people killed, before I even turned sixteen. It's all just… too much, after a time. It literally pains me every day – I wake up in a cold sweat, and drift off into semi-consciousness sitting at a desk, only to be awoken by the phantom screams of the dying." He drifted off again, only to snap back swearing to himself. "Dammit… I'm acting like a freaking class amateur." He turned back and tried to distract himself by taking manual control of the car. "Jesus, I haven't gotten like this since Nunnally was…" he suddenly froze again before falling silent.

"Who's Nunnally?" Euphie pressed, against her better judgment. He grumbled something to himself and used one hand to massage his forehead.

"She's my little sister by about five years. We've been living in Area 11 for the past seven years, after our mother… died in a bombing raid at the start of the invasion. Nunnally was six at the time. Ever since father returned to Germany, I've had to work to support her education and living expenses. She knows what I do, and she disagrees with it… but I have to, now; I can't turn back anymore." She instantly felt terrible for asking, so she decided to remain silent.

Within a few minutes, the car was parked on the street, next to a small café. Lelouch turned to her and sighed deeply. "Well, now that we're here; how's about we get down to business?" he asked, cracking a smile. She managed to mirror it, and they both stepped out of the car.

* * *

><p><strong>Royal Britannian Army Base Tokyo<br>1230 hours**

The battered and demoralized convoy and troops and Knightmares stumbled into the gates of the base, met with a series of confused looks from their comrades.

At the tail-end of the group were Cornelia and her six remaining knights, their heavily damaged Gloucesters barely making it to the group's impromptu assembly area before finally sputtering out, their energy fillers drained completely.

Guilford was first to jump out, literally leaping from his cockpit and landing in a crouch, his hand held in a fist to the tarmac as he grumbled to himself in shame. The other five mimicked the gesture in similar manners.

Cornelia descended on her cable with a forlorn air about her, violet hair shadowing her eyes and she walked off wordlessly towards the entrance into the government bureau.

The forces of generals Alex and Darlton, not quite as damaged or forlorn but still shredded in their own right, staggered through and immediately began a mad race for their mechanical and medical facilities. Sutherlands jockeyed for position as they dashed towards the garages, and Humvee and truck drivers put their pedals to the floor.

"It's good to see that they still have _some _kind of enthusiasm after that ordeal," Alex commented as he pulled up beside Darlton. The scarred general nodded with a faint smile of amusement, which quickly faded as he looked towards Cornelia's abandoned Gloucester.

"I take it then that the battle didn't go so well?" a voice called from behind them. Both turned in their open seats to see a Sutherland with a grey torso and navy blue appendages leisurely driving up beside them.

"Admiral Carlson!" Alex exclaimed, saluting respectfully. He, after all, was only a Brigadier General; Darlton was exempt, as he was a Lieutenant General.

"Give it a rest, Alex," the man waved it off.

"What exactly are you doing here, Admiral?" Darlton questioned suspiciously. The man before them was a supporter of Prince Schneizel; that alone was enough to make anyone in the current structure nervous.

"I'm wounded by your distrust of me, Darlton," Samuel replied dryly. "Relax; I'm mostly independent at the moment. I received orders from the Emperor to break off from the unofficial blockade around Australia and come to assist you. He wasn't too greatly impressed by the Lake Kawaguchi Resort incident, so he essentially told me to get my ass up here and bolster your forces, as well as help to whip your ill-prepared troops into shape for army-on-army warfare."

"Army versus army? Have you been apprised of the situation already?"

"I asked the same of His Majesty; he replied that it was quite obvious that you were outclassed over here, if your out-of-date training reports are any indication." The admiral shut off the idling Knightmare and stood in his seat, leaning on the top of the cockpit block. "You've been so damned focused on all of those little tiny terrorist groups that you've been completely blind to the apparently highly-trained ex-military right in front of you."

'_Well when you state it like that…' _Darlton grumbled to himself.

"And I'm just the spearhead; the 1st Airborne is dispatching a training battalion to this area tomorrow, and the Sixteenth Infantry Division is shipping out the day after. Just a little warning, in case you wanted to, you know, get your shit together and make your troops look even remotely presentable by the time everyone gets here."

The two generals were unfazed by the jab, because in all honesty, they _seriously _needed to get their shit together. There was still nearly a full brigade of soldiers on the base whose closest facsimile to action was patrolling the streets and beating on helpless Elevens.

Both men groaned at the mere thought. Darlton turned to his companion whilst starting up his Gloucester, which was thankfully mostly intact, apart from a few shrapnel scratches. "Alex, I need you to assemble all active-duty combat personnel on post and get them to the tarmac for 1400. I need to speak with Her Highness."

"Got it," Alex nodded. Both of them turned to the admiral, who simply leaned on his arms, smirking in amusement.

"You: go back to your damned toy boats and bring us something useful. And quit grinning like that, dammit! You're not the freaking Cheshire Cat!" Darlton snapped. Samuel raised his hands in mock-surrender and sat down in his seat, starting up the Knightmare and driving off.

* * *

><p><strong>Café de l'Allemagne<br>1245 hours**

Now, this restaurant was quite an oddity in and of itself. The name was French, and about half of the food was French, but the name translated to "Café of Germany", and the other half of the menu was German cuisine. Put it all together in the heart of Tokyo, Japan, and you had quite a unique establishment. It was relatively quiet, with only a handful of loyal regulars who used it simply to get away from the house or work.

The two had enjoyed a delicious lunch, and were currently browsing over the details of the BPG's proposal, their earlier conversation completely out of mind… for the moment.

"… There is absolutely no way that Sister would _ever_, in her entire life, agree to this," Euphie said bluntly as she finished going through the papers.

"I mean no offense, but Cornelia is a shrewd leader, basing her minor political presence off of her military career. This translates to not giving up a single _inch_; no matter what the reward may be," Lelouch replied calmly. "I came to you because you have not had the same military exposure, and are therefore more _open-minded _when it comes to political maneuvering. You are _willing _to see the reward, instead of stubbornly denying it all and guarding every last square centimeter like the gates of Gibraltar."

She giggled at the description, but then sighed unsurely, her smile faltering. "Regardless, it's just… quite a bit to take in. No one in my family would be happy to hear that I'm sponsoring a foreign power establishing a solid foothold in our territory."

"Trust me; I completely understand that, especially after sitting in on a meeting between my father and Prince Schneizel… I think we lost more than we gained in that venture, now that I think back. But it's just a matter of one island; all we need is a government license to move the rest of our men and equipment into the country, and then we'll be totally out of the way. You'll never hear a single peep out of us again."

"As well and good as that may sound… I have my doubts."

Lelouch sighed in disappointment. "Well, it appears we've hit a wall for the moment."

She too nodded sadly. "I'm afraid so. I'm sorry that we were not able to reach an agreement, but your terms are simply too odd and sudden."

"Yes, that was a thought that had crossed my mind. But of course, I'm just a negotiator; I'll be sure to communicate the feedback to my companions so that we can rework the deal into more… favorable terms for Britannia." He reshuffled the papers and replaced them neatly in his briefcase, snapping the latches shut. He then took his phone from his pocket. "I think you may be interested to hear, Sub-Viceroy, that your sister is back in the settlement."

"Really?" Euphie gasped in surprise. "So soon? Did something happen?"

"It appears that her forces were thoroughly trounced by the JLF before the main assault even began." He reopened the briefcase and extracted a laptop, which started up immediately. On the main screen was a detailed e-mail. "Several infiltrators managed to sabotage the rail systems by which the bulk of her forces were traveling; afterwards, there were several- wait, am I reading this right?" Lelouch muttered in subdued shock. "It says that all three task force encampment were attacked by fighter jets, which pretty much bombed and strafed the hell out of them. Finally, Cornelia made a last desperate charge for the mountain summit, only to be beaten back within a mile of departure. She's returned with barely fifty percent of her forces left, and nearly twenty-five percent of that number is wounded. Darlton and Alex suffered only about thirty percent loses, but regardless, the one-sided battle has left over a full battalion of Britannian soldiers dead, and another wounded. Upon returning to the base, Cornelia has basically barricaded herself in her office."

The princess opposite him held a thoroughly shocked expression, and by the end, she was nearly in tears. "I need to return immediately," she declared.

"I'd figured as much," Lelouch replied calmly, handing the payment for their meal to the waiter, who bowed slightly and walked away. The pair stood and hurriedly made their way back to the car, which was already idling, its doors automatically opening as they approached. Within seconds, they were off to the bureau.

* * *

><p><strong>Narita Central Command<br>1300 hours**

"The attacks on Shikoku and Kyushu will commence at 1400 hours, sharp. The Seventh and Thirteenth Infantry Divisions, supported by the Eighth Armored Division, will strike at key targets on each island. Once Fukuoka Base is secured, reinforcements will arrive from Beijing, in the form of the sleeper-cell Fourth Naval Group."

Ishitora listened to the briefing with half an ear; it really didn't apply to him, since his company was being dispersed into the town at the base of the mountain to evacuate civilians once the second Britannian attack was in sight.

"… Finally, the Thirty-Fifth Mechanized Infantry Battalion will be sent to the Chiba Prefecture as protection for the Twenty-Fourth Artillery. Any questions?"

There were none, and the briefing officer dismissed everyone to their stations. The upcoming operation would be most likely be the largest since the First Pacific War's attack on Pearl Harbor; _everything _had to be executed _to the letter_.

Unseen by anyone who may be observing from outside, the entire mountain range was bustling with activity. Numerous hangar doors slid open in sync to intake the brisk fall air, as aircraft ranging from small observation choppers to heavy bombers and cargo planes were preparing to launch.

Roadways were emptied in the valleys and at the base of the mountains, followed by large portions of the mountainsides sliding open like hangar doors. Kawasaki C-130, C-1 and C-2 cargo aircraft rolled out, fully loaded and prepared to take off, while up in the mountains, hydraulic catapults launched fighters by the dozens. Within ten minutes, the entire force of thirty transports, sixty Knightmare VTOLs, and an entire assorted air wing of forty F-15Js, F-2As, and F-35CJs.

The air fleet split in two, the larger portion heading south to support the landings at Shikoku and Kyushu, while the smaller went to distract the Britannian Tokyo garrison with strafing runs and anti-ship attacks on the harbor.

Rei adjusted his straps as he flew at a steady cruising speed of Mach 1, the rest of his flight sticking vigilantly to their positions at his four, six and eight o' clock. This time around, the entire Crane Squadron of twelve fighters was in formation, with the other two flights of four off to the sides. Eight fighters were outfitted for air-to-ground operations, while the other four were fit for air-to-air combat, on the off chance that they met any resistance from aircraft over Tokyo airspace.

The wing was to act as a distraction while the transport group landed troops, armor, munitions and Knightmares in Chiba Prefecture to support the artillery group. In the meantime, it was just the best kind of escort duty: the totally unnecessary kind.

Until the warning alarms started to sound.

"Incoming missiles! Scatter!" Rei ordered, simultaneously pulling hard to the right. Executing a high-g turn, he just managed to avoid an AIM-120 AAMRAM as it passed within feet of his fuselage.

"_Bogeys inbound, Vector One-One-Zero. We're counting four Hornets and six Lightning IIs," _the AWACS reported in shock. _"Rei, we can't authorize a retreat! Engage those fighters and keep them off of the transports!"_

"Roger," he replied mechanically. "Tsuru Nine through Twelve break off and protect; your primary mission is to defend the transports. Engage only if the target has clear hostile intent towards the transports!"

"_Orders received and acknowledged!"_

"Everybody else, break and engage! These guys are air-to-ground attacker craft; our Eagles have the upper hand. Defend the transports at all costs!"

"_Affirmative!"_

The only advantage that the Britannian flight might've held before, surprise, was gone. It was seven Eagles and his F-2 against ten naval warfare planes, and these guys looked pretty green to all involved. His point was punctuated as his Number Five blasted the lead F-18, which had been trying to shoot him up from head-on.

"_Tsuru Six, Fox Two!"_

"_Tsuru Eight, Fox Three!"_

"_Dammit! Tsuru Seven, missile shot trashed! Four, nail that bastard for me!"_

"_Tsuru Four, Fox Two – YES! Confirmed hit, bogey down!"_

"_This is Tsuru Eight; he's on my six- DAMN, EJECTING!" _The squadron watched as Number Eight's seat roared from the cockpit right before a Sidewinder smashed into the Eagle's afterburners. The offending F-35 was repaid in kind as a Vympel R-73 SRAAM hit him center-mass as he tried to execute a high-g left bank. The plane was vaporized by the impact, with no ejection seat visible.

The startled Britannian group, now down to three of each type of fighter, was soon swinging around to regroup. The rest of Crane Squadron took the opportunity to pounce on the rest, and within mere minutes, they were facing a single Hornet, having only lost Number Five to a blind 20mm cannon burst.

The remaining F-18, a Super Hornet by the looks of him, had a custom emblem of the Britannian flag on his tail, along with what appeared to be six miniature German national flags painted onto his right wing. A kill score.

"_Bastard's an Ace! Seven, get back on my eight o' clock and arm your R-77s, we're going out and about. Lead, can you keep him in a straight line long enough for us to hit him?"_

"We'll give it our best, Six," Rei replied without hesitation, switching back to his own Sidewinders and cutting loose as the maneuvering fighter stumbled into his sights. The haphazardly-aimed missile was quickly dodged, but three Vympels soon took up the role of chasers. In this time, the squadron had essentially encircled the lone Britannian, and was holding him in place while Six and Seven lined up their shots from different directions.

"_Crane Six, Fox Three!"  
>"Crane Seven, Fox Three!"<em>

Six's missile was dodged by barely an inch, but Seven's rammed into the plane's left wing, sending it spiraling uncontrollably into the mountainous terrain below.

"_All bogeys eliminated; picture clear. Good job, Tsuru Squadron – reform on the transports and move on to Tokyo."_

"Roger."

* * *

><p><strong>Office of the Viceroy, Government Bureau<br>1330 hours**

Darlton slid past Guilford, who simply shot his comrade a worried glance. The scarred general tentatively took a step towards the door, which surprisingly didn't automatically slide open.

"She's locked down all the doors into the office, even the balcony; there's no way you're getting in there," Guilford sighed tiredly. The younger man appeared to be nursing a sore shoulder and reddened fingers, probably front trying to pry around the door and find purchase in it, then resorting to fruitlessly bashing it.

The lieutenant general facepalmed and then turned back to the door, feeling around the frame until his fingers felt small screws. Producing a small pocket knife, he used the blade to unscrew four of them, which allowed him to remove a small metal panel. Ten seconds later, three wires jutted out from the frame, all sliced, and the door was wide open. Guilford sat in silent astonishment, before smacking a hand to the side of his face.

"Remind me to have that security flaw remedied as soon as we're done here," Darlton grumbled lowly, stepping into the darkened office.

Inside, the room was completely dark, the windows and glass doors automatically blacked out at a single command. The light from the door shone faintly on the grand mahogany desk in the back of the room, where a head of purple hair was hunched over on the desk, a bottle of scotch set beside it.

Darlton's eyes narrowed when he spotted the scotch. He immediately turned back to the door and lightly reconnected the three wires, allowing the door to slide shut behind him. "I'm not leaving until you do, Your Highness," he spoke firmly.

The mass of flowing purple hair shifted, and a low groan came from it. "Just leave me be, Andreas; you can take control of the country if you'd like, since I'm clearly unfit to do so."

"What in the world are you talking about, Princess?" he asked incredulously. "It was one defeat – has that ever stopped you before, in the Middle East or North Africa?"

"I was defeated here because I am strategically and tactically incompetent as a commander and a royal," she whispered, raising her head as a small tear streaked down her cheek. "The Arabs and the Africans were cannon fodder to any military. But now, I come across a single competent country's true army, and I am defeated not once, but _twice_. TWICE, ANDREAS!" she now snapped, smoothly moving upright and slamming her palms on the desk. The hardened veteran flinched.

"THESE ELEVENS WERE SAID TO BE MIDDLE-CLASS AT BEST IN THEIR PRIME, AND THEY HAVE BESTED ME **TWICE **NOW!"

The briefly-frightened Darlton admirably relaxed and replied calmly. "Cornelia li Britannia, would you look at yourself now?" he said quietly. The rage on the Second Princess's face turned to confusion, and then to momentary guilt. "We are on enemy soil, Cornelia; we blindly charged them without fully grasping their knowledge of the terrain. These Elevens have had years to prepare their chosen battlegrounds under Clovis' inadequate policing, and now they lead us straight into their jaws with a single taunting strategic loss, and we fell for it. _All _of us fell for it, Princess; there is no single soul at total fault here, and about half of those are now dead because of it." He clasped his hands behind his back and spun on his heel to face the window.

"Now, Second Princess Cornelia li Britannia, your troops are tired, broken and demoralized; I'd suggest you come to your senses and address them."

* * *

><p><strong>RBAF Tokyo  
>1355 hours<strong>

Brigadier General Alex Morrison shook his head in disappointment as the raised podium on the tarmac remained empty, and the set time of the address was mere minutes away.

The remainder of the taskforce, by now barely a single full brigade, was assembled before him, all in attendance bearing a haggard appearance, several simply standing at half-hearted parade rest and staring at the ground. To Alex, it was a very depressing sight indeed.

But just as he was preparing to move and dismiss the men, a lone Gloucester dashed full-tilt across the tarmac towards the podium.

It stopped behind the platform, and its cockpit opened to release Viceroy Cornelia, who was looking fresh and determined. She couldn't use her personal Gloucester anymore, since it was apparently deemed unusable by the mechanics earlier in the hour.

"_ATTENTION!" _she snapped, causing all in formation to snap to said position, any overwhelming signs of weariness disappearing.

"First of all," she began, leaning on the podium and gazing skyward, "I believe that I must… apologize for my actions upon our return, as well as my recklessness in battle. I am ashamed of my behavior thus far, and fully intend to remedy any negative effects of this debacle forthwith, or at least those which may be remedied." She straightened and stared down into the formation, in which not a one of the troops so much as flinched as her eyes passed over each and every one of them.

"I have come to realize just how overwhelmingly unmatched we are against these Elevens, and therefore shall be implementing a series of military reforms immediately. While we were away, Admiral Samuel Carlson arrived with a detachment of his Sixth Fleet, as well as the Army's Twenty-Fourth Infantry Division." Said admiral drove up in his Sutherland, standing in his seat and taking a bow. Several in the formation rolled their eyes.

"In addition, several defense officials in the homeland have determined that the men and women of Britannia's Area 11 command are… inadequately prepared to fight soldiers of the JLF's caliber. Therefore, a training battalion of the First Airborne Division will arrive tomorrow, and will be broken up and dispersed among the commands of the area. Each and every unit will be assessed and, if necessary, retrained in combat against enemy military personnel. Units will be taken aside over the course of the next week, one company at a time, and given a crash-course in militant combat."

A few of the men groaned, but others who had seen combat against the JLF infantry simply nodded in resignation.

"Also, the day after tomorrow, the Sixteenth Infantry Division will be arriving, and on the twenty-eighth of the month, we will make a second attempt at Narita." A number of the men paled, and others gulped nervously. Cornelia noticed this reaction, but honestly couldn't fault them for it. "Now, reform into your units and go about your business; however, prepare yourselves for the arrival of our… comrades…" she placed a sort of eye-rolling emphasis on "comrades". She stepped back up into the Gloucester's cockpit and dashed off, back towards the government complex.

Alex smirked slightly and nodded in approval at Darlton, who had joined him partway through the address.

The rising mood was shattered as a fighter jet streaked over the tarmac, 30mm cannon blazing, and was followed by a massive shockwave which knocked the men off their feet. Klaxons blared as another three jets came in, dropping unguided 2000 pound bombs on several key structures all over the base. Another flight followed the first and strafed the grounds with missiles and guns, passing around the government complex and roaring over the harbor. Entire anchorages went up in flames as anti-ship missiles struck the bows and superstructures of warships, although this time, they were pursued by CIWS and AAA fire.

"_Attention all units, we are under air attack! Move to the nearest hardened structure or assist the air defense units!"_

The vast majority chose the former over the latter, but a few moved to the armory or any nearby scrambling Triple-A crews, either fetching ammunition or their own Stingers.

Unfortunately, it was too little, too late. By the time most of the gun crews were fully prepared, several of the government bureau's automated defenses had already been destroyed, and a number of the base's key facilities lay in smoking or burning ruins. In the port, at least a dozen of the Area's assigned naval vessels, as well as one of Admiral Carlson's three cruisers, were slowing sinking to the bottom of Tokyo Bay.

From an overlook on the main complex, Cornelia was surprisingly calm… Almost calculatingly so. A bit of it slipped up when a runner handed her a report.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?"

* * *

><p><strong>Ashford Academy<br>1410 hours**

Lelouch couldn't help but let out a low chuckle as the news broadcasters panned over the carnage wrought on Britannian forces in Kyushu. Beside him, Milly disregarded it and was slightly worried.

"… _And now, a mere ten minutes after the first screams of death on Kyushu, the Britannian Fukuoka garrison lays in ruins, and our gallant soldiers are surrendering in droves as guerilla troops wade ashore, armed to the teeth." _The camera's view shifted over to a pair of JLF machine gunners, who were currently escorting a captured Britannian officer away from the fading sounds of battle.

"_The terrorists have identified themselves as the Japan Liberation Front, and we have confirmed that their forces have secured both the islands of Kyushu and Shikoku. Out on the water, you can see pre-war naval vessels of the defunct Japan Maritime Self-Defense Force, bearing the colors of the former nation of Japan. This has been Adrianna Livingston for the Britannian Broadcasting Network."_

The picture switched back to the newsroom. _"Thank you, Adrianna. In other news, the Private Military Company known as the Black Panzer Group has locked down the northernmost island of Hokkaido, citing "a need to protect valued investments." A key officer in the organization, thirty-five year-old Dmitri Novikov, has released the following statement." _The image was now of Dmitri, standing at a podium, dressed in pitch-black BDUs and a red beret. The scene was currently being broadcast from neutral grounds in Shanghai, since the man had been in the middle of territorial negotiations with the Chinese Federation.

"_The BPG has unanimously chosen a stance of neutrality in this incident," _he spoke in Russian-accented English, _"And due to the number and value of our interests on the island of Hokkaido, we will be enacting drastic security measures, and any persons who set foot on the island, regardless of nationality, will be detained and thoroughly investigated, unless in possession of a specially-marked pass, which has been distributed to the registered citizens and licensed personnel of this district far prior to this debacle. Any force bearing arms and affiliated with a military, terrorist, guerilla or national intelligence organization that attempts to enter with intents of assault, occupation, or general disturbance of the peace WILL be immediately and mercilessly __**cut down**_**.**_ This action is legalized by the National Arms Treaty of Hammelburg in 1923, stating that, and I quote, _"Any force with legalized and licensed interests in at least sixty percent of a single territorial district may pursue absolute security in said district in times of civil unrest." _For any further questions, our public relations officers are available from nine A.M. to eight P.M. in our branch offices in Tokyo, Sapporo, Nagoya, and Kyoto." _Totally disregarding the clambering reporters, Dmitri and two other officers made their way out of the building with measured military haste, their heads held low, showing any observing cameras nothing but the lower halves of their faces and the stylized silver vulture on their berets.

"I knew I picked a good press representative in Dmitri," Lelouch spoke in satisfaction. Beside him, Milly smirked a bit and lightly smacked his shoulder.

"You could've done it yourself, you lazy bum; you have the knowledge and experience for it," she chastised him cheerily. Lelouch simply shrugged.

"I don't like the cameras."

"I thought you were used to people taking aim and making flashes at you," she giggled lightly.

"I usually had at least a sniper rifle and the cover of a crowd then," he grinned back at the joke. He shifted and laid back along the length of the couch, gesturing for the standing Milly to join him. She complied readily, laying on top of him and perching her head on her folded hands (and his chest.) He had his head propped up, so the two simply sat there and stared at each other for a while.

"I am going to win this time, Lelouch Lamperouge…"

"You can sure as hell try, Camilla Ashford. But I am supreme in this game."

Stillness…

Blink.

"God_dammit!_" Milly swore, pounding a fist on his chest and lying face-down. Lelouch simply laid there and grinned at the top of her head. When she raised her head to look at him, he was _still _giving her that same annoying grin. "You pompous ass…"

"A pompous ass that has won this game _one-hundred and sixty-four times out of two hundred_," he corrected, slightly petulantly. His grin diminished when her head suddenly snapped up, and she was smiling deviously.

"But I know a game that I _can _win…" she whispered mischievously. His eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to shout.

"CHEA-" he was cut off as her lips met his, effectively muffling his outburst. His expression mellowed and his eyes slid shut as he lay back completely, and she overtook him.

It was at that precise moment that the Student Council Room's doors slid open, admitting Shirley, Rivalz and Nina. The latter was blushing profusely, while the former two's jaws were unhinged and on the ground.

"MILLY!"

"LULU!"

"Wha-!" both of the shouted names snapped upwards. They spotted their three spectators, and were completely unabashed about it. "Yes?" Lelouch drawled slowly, waiting for Rivalz to pick up his jaw. "Come on man, look sharp! The President's watching!"

That snapped the blue-haired boy out of it. He was straight-faced for half a second before looking dejected. "Dude! What the hell?"

Lelouch raised a brow. "You're gonna have to be a bit more specific, Rivalz," he replied nonchalantly. The other boy was now gaping like a fish, while Shirley remained red as her hair as she interrogated Milly.

"Madam President, what the hell?" she redhead hissed lowly. The blond bombshell simply shrugged.

"We've been seeing each other since freshman year; I don't see what the big deal is."

Shirley felt her world shatter. _'F-freshman year…?' _"H-how… W-why would you two keep this from us?"

"What do you mean? We've been fairly open about it. Why do you think I'm always messing with him and ordering him around?" Milly smiled.

"BECAUSE YOU DO THAT TO ALL OF US! YOU OPENLY GROPE KALLEN AND ME!"

"Well that's just me having fun," the older girl grinned back. Shirley seemed to redden further in indignation.

The aura of anger was put on pause as Lelouch's cell rang. He fished the small flip phone from his pocket and was quit to answer.

"_Machen Sie es schnell_," the teen greeted tersely in German.

"_Colonel, we seem to have a few problems."_

"Well what is it and why can't Dmitri handle it?"

"_Because your father is coming."_

Lelouch dropped the phone, going stalk-still. He gingerly reached down and retrieved the phone.

"… _Are you done over-exaggerating yet, boss?" _the man on the other end sighed.

"One more time," he replied. The phone was dropped and retrieved again. "Alright, when's the old bastard getting in?"

"_Tomorrow at 0500, he's on a small plane chartered in Kamchatka."_

"A Lear?"

"_Nope; Cessna. Looks like he's not taking any chances, considering his guards are flying into municipal air strips all over the northern half of the country."_

"Probably for the best in these times… Get him and all his boys back to Sapporo safe, will ya? I've got some business in Tokyo to wrap up."

"_You of all people know that he'll throw a fit if you're not there to see him as soon as he gets to base…" _the other mercenary warned.

"He's my father for Christ's sake; what the hell do you think?" Lelouch snapped back. There was a chuckle before the line went dead, and the call somehow deleted itself from his phone's records completely.

The rest of the Student Council watched this process with a myriad of odd looks, except for Milly, who of course was smirking mischievously.

"Am I finally going to be meeting my future father-in-law?" she teased lightly, whilst the other two formerly outraged juniors sputtered in disbelief. Lelouch groaned and massaged his temples.

"That senile old bastard is gonna totally screw me over just 'cause he thinks it's fun…" he muttered grouchily. He was totally unfazed as Milly draped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him to her. He remained with a hand held to his chin, and a light scowl on his features. Rivalz, on the other hand, once more had his jaw to the ground, with the addition of a new shade of red slapped across his face. Shirley was mentally replacing herself with Milly.

* * *

><p><strong>Fukuoka Base, Kyushu<br>1450 hours**

"Half an hour…" Takao muttered in awe. He had received permission to oversee the mop-up operations after the landings. "Thirty minutes is all it took to chase Britannia out of Kyushu."

"Amazing, right?" a petty officer chuckled from his right. The man had just been brought ashore from the DDS-112 _Suzunami_, a _Takanami_-class destroyer which had been sent out to be hidden in Shanghai at the start of the Britannian invasion. It had been the ship on which that coward, Sawasaki Atsushi, had fled aboard, along with a handful of Genbu Kururugi's cabinet members. The ship had been fumigated and thoroughly disinfected afterwards, courtesy of the entire crew. "I've been here watching these boys work their magic since the beginning, and they barely even needed the 127mm volley we gave 'em." The man adjusted his loaner steel helmet and took a cigarette from his pocket. "Smoke?"

"I'm good," Takao replied politely. The pair stood in silence as the fires around the base were slowly extinguished by the victorious forces, and more Britannian prisoners were herded about. After another five minutes, the petty officer stomped out his light and turned to head back.

"Good luck in the mountains, Takao; but come on back out on the water soon, eh? The boys are missing you and that crazy trigger finger of yours."

Takao chuckled lightly. "Tell 'em I'll be back as soon as Cornelia takes another shot at Narita," he replied. The naval officer nodded and flagged down a Rigid-Hulled Inflatable Boat, and took off back to the anchored destroyer.

Before Takao himself took off, he spotted a darkened form lurking through the waters. A single figure stood atop it, and snapped off a salute before disappearing into some sort of hatch. The form quickly disappeared underwater, and then it was gone.

"Heh… That sly bastard is back in action," he chuckled enigmatically.

* * *

><p><strong>Royal Britannian Army Base (RBA) Tokyo<br>1500 hours**

"According to last reports, Your Highness, the enemy fleet consisted of one _Hyuga_-class helicopter destroyer, two _Atago_-class guided missile destroyers, three _Takanami_-class frigates, two _Abakuma_-class destroyer escorts, and several landing ships of various types. There are also several unconfirmed reports of an unknown number of what are suspected to be _Soryu_-class submarines in the area," the naval intelligence officer from Carlson's flagship reported.

Cornelia nodded mutely as battle recordings played over several screens, depicting the numerous Japanese naval destroyers bombarding the Britannian garrison at Fukuoka. The sheer volume of fire, coupled with the troop landings via several LCAC (landing craft, air-cushioned), was evidently enough to cripple the Britannian troops before most of the JLF even made it ashore. Clearly the Japanese navy had been expanded, either before the invasion or elsewhere over the last seven years.

"The attack began with heavy bombardment from the destroyers' main guns, followed by aerial strafing from four SH-60K naval helicopters and a flight of upgraded F-35C short take-off/landing (STOL) fighters. Finally, a pair of _Osumi__-__Ni_-class tank landing ships, carrying six LCAC craft and several independent units, began unloading infantry onto the shores. In the end, Fukuoka was overrun, and any of our troops that managed to escape the base were ultimately captured when a JLF tank division seized the bridges to Honshu and Shikoku. Any who were caught on the outlying islands were captured or killed."

Carlson himself spoke up from the side. "Do we have an approach vector from which the task group originated?"

The intelligence officer sighed. "We can almost be certain that they came from Shanghai, but we don't have enough evidence to make a political statement about it." The admiral dismissed it nonchalantly.

"Do we have any idea if there are others?"

"We have our suspicions, most of which were confirmed when a pair of our carrier-based UAVs were shot down over a naval base on the coast of Kamchatka. Our last and fuzziest pictures managed to confirm at least forty surface vessels, with a suspected twenty more somewhere out of the shot."

"Wait a minute; that would amount to nearly seventy surface vessels! At the start of the invasion, the Japanese Navy only held a confirmed sixty-eight, fifteen of which we sunk!" Cornelia interjected. "How is it possible for them to have replaced that number, and then added to it, over the course of seven years without aid?"

"With these ships returning from ports to the north and east, we can definitely confirm assistance from the independent colony of Shanghai, as well as the Siberian province of Kamchatka; whether the aid was provided by separatists or the nations' governments themselves, we cannot yet confirm," the intel officer offered weakly. Cornelia stood from her seat and slammed her hands down on the display.

"That does it – I'm requisitioning one- no, make it _two_ Army Corps from the homeland. Better yet, I'm requesting aid from RBN (Royal Britannian Navy) Los Angeles, in the form of a carrier battle group."

"Well, I never thought I'd see the day that the Witch of Britannia cried out for help," Samuel smirked, only to have the look falter under a strong death glare from the Second Princess.

"And you! You can cut the snarky remarks and cooperate, or I can send you back to the Solomon Islands in a dinghy, and commandeer your group for myself!" she barked harshly. "My brother's name doesn't mean _shit _in my area; I wouldn't care if you worked directly under the Emperor himself, you _will _work with me, or you will get the fuck out of my territory!"

The admiral's officers were taken aback, but Cornelia's staff was smirking as their commander laid down the law. Several of them had already had their toes stepped on as the navy men tried to seize control; it was quite gratifying to see them knocked down a peg.

"Now, if you will kindly crawl into some distant hole for a few days, I need to secure arrival areas for the training battalion." She gestured bluntly towards the door, at which point the admiral and his officers begrudgingly left the premises. Within minutes, all high-ranking naval officers had left the complex, leaving only Cornelia's people and a handful of actually helpful navy men, mostly the captains of the smaller ships and a few scattered petty officers.

She turned to an aide who had entered the room. "Find one of my commanders and have scouts dispatched to survey the area around Tokyo; I don't think that that air strike was just for show," she ordered. The aide nodded and set off to find an officer to relay the orders to. Once the room was once more empty, Cornelia sealed the door and collapsed back into her chair, remembering for the first time the words spoken by the JLF's insane messenger.

"_Foretold are three signs before the beginning of Tenshu; the first has already occurred at Lake Kawaguchi. What I have spoken of is the second sign. I will return later on to tell you of the third. After Kami's third intervention, unless you can stop the second or third, Tenshu will begin, and your nation of false prophets and heretics shall begin to crumble."_

The words seemed hollow and superstitious then, but now, a spot of apprehension began to develop in her chest.

'_If what he spoke of is true, then we have already failed to stop the second sign, even if our next operation at Narita is to succeed,' _she pondered. _'So all I can do is wait for him to reappear and offer the third sign, and try my damnedest to stop it.'_

She was interrupted as the door slid open by use of an external security code, and a pink-haired blur swept into the room.

"Sister!" Euphie cried out, practically leaping over the desk into Cornelia's arms. A bit startled by her sudden appearance, the elder sibling managed to recover.

"Euphie! Where were you?" she questioned, finally able to consciously wrap her arms around the girl.

"… I was in a meeting with a minor official," she replied, disguising her hesitation. "With you gone, I had to fill in for a few of the administrative duties," she added more confidently, "And I had to make a public statement to explain your absence and loss at Narita." The Viceroy winced at the final statement.

"Yes, well… The loss in the mountains was a bit… hard to completely absorb, so I just needed… a little time to myself," Cornelia managed to stagger out, appearing slightly ashamed of herself. Euphie nodded in understanding on unwrapped herself from her sister, walking towards the large bay window overlooking the bay.

"I understand," was all she said before staring out the window, down at where several port crews were attempting to salvage a few of the shattered naval vessels. However, it appeared that their efforts were for naught, as the magazine of one of Carlson's cruisers exploded grandly. The recovery crew would later report a technical failure by the search team, but would fail to note that half of said team was composed of Honorary Britannians, who would later disappear from the base in a pair of Humvees, and be seen later in JGSDF uniforms, manning gunnery emplacements on Mount Shirouma.

To Euphemia, who was apparently more aware of the military's situation than most of the military itself, it was a very saddening notion.

For now, she disregarded the thought in favor of thinking of Lelouch.

* * *

><p><strong>Narita Base<br>1600 hours**

"Well, that's it for the next little while, I suppose," Rei sighed as climbed down from his F-2's cockpit. He had expended most of his ammunition, save for two hundred rounds of 30mm and a single Sidewinder and AAM-4. The rest of the flight had only expended half of their ammo at worst, so they had plenty to return to the stocks.

"Well, at least we get a few days of reflection," Tsuru Four, Reiko Yurei, offered up cheerily. The woman was always bright and joyful, unless of course someone scratched the paint on her Eagle. _Then _she was the Shinigami personified, no question about it.

"Your ever-glowing outlook on life is an inspiration to us all, Reiko-chan," Tsuru Two, Kobi Yamata, drawled sarcastically in return. A pessimist if there ever was one, this man.

"Oh, just shut up and leave her be, Kobi," Three, Mori Takahashi, snapped in his direction.

"Mori, Kobi, give it a rest," Rei groaned. He removed his helmet and climbed out of his flight suit, leaving him in a pair of black jeans and a camo jacket. "All of you just go back to the barracks and don't come out until Cornelia's come and gone."

Apparently liking this order very much, the three ace pilots snapped off salutes in unison and sprinted off, leaving Rei blinking in surprise.

"Bastards…" he hissed to himself. "Now I've gotta make that damned report myself…"

* * *

><p><strong>Act 2 – Stage 2 END<strong>

**A/N: Gotta stop there or else this is gonna hit 20k… R&R, please!**

**Profile – Japan Air Self-Defense Force**

General  
>~ 55,000 active personnel (2017 ATB, JLF estimate)<br>- 900 aircraft (~400 fighters, 150 trainers, 150 transport, 20 AEW/EW (Aerial Early Warning/Electronic Warfare), 150 helicopters, 30 misc.)  
>- Over 200 radar &amp; early warning stations nationwide (150 still active)<br>~ 50,000 reserve/ground security personnel

**Translation**

_Machen Sie es schnell_ – make it quick (German)

… **And that's all I've got, really. **

**Next Stage:  
>Second Battle of Narita – The War Begins<strong>


	7. Act 2 Pt 3

**A/N: Hey there everybody, I'm back and hoping to be able to focus more on this story. My other Naruto fic is sort of falling through in my mind, so I'm just gonna put it on hiatus. This seems to be the more interesting of the two to me.**

**Well, what excuse can I really give but school? Well, my computer sorta crapped out on me for a few days, and the time after was preoccupied with lots of work that I needed to do. The weather hasn't exactly been too terribly hospitable for a while, either. **

**Also, to address a recent review: yes, I fully realize that my use of standardized ballistic weapons is quite anachronistic when one looks at the technology of the period in the series. Turns out (and I just recently looked this up,) CG canon weapons, even small arms, actually utilize Sakuradite power packs to fire concentrated bolts of concussive energy with enough velocity to penetrate flesh and material up to approximately six inches in thickness for standard metals, and possibly quite a bit more for softer constructs of wood or weaker metals. I honestly had not realized this; I just thought that they were being typical anime artists and making every weapon look like the same crappy shotgun or assault rifle. As for why I'm sticking to ballistics… Well, typical firearms have their bore and caliber scale, which is what I am thoroughly accustomed to; I appreciate a sense of standardization, yet still with variation (but a scale to reference). Am I boring you yet?**

**Anyway, this is the second official battle of Narita (first REAL battle, truthfully). About a week has passed, and several Britannian divisions have arrived to bolster Cornelia's forces in the area. With a fresh crash-course in **_**real **_**army-on-army warfare, the Second Princess and her troops are ready to take another shot at the JLF.**

**This is gonna be **_**fun**_**.**

**Act II – Part III  
>Second Battle of the Hida Mountains<strong>

**September 28****th****, 2017 ATB  
>0200 hours<br>Royal Britannian Army Base Tokyo**

This time around, Cornelia chose to assemble her troops in the expansive (albeit relatively unused) hangar facilities. No one knew how they did it, but the aircraft mechanics and building supervisors had managed to squeeze every one of the roughly thirty-five _thousand_ soldiers into the modest aerodrome. The princess herself had managed to finish a _rousing _speech, and was dismissing the troops to their waiting modes of transportation. Echo Company of the Third Battalion, Sixteenth Infantry, had been dispatched earlier into the processing time to draw the fire of two JLF artillery batteries which had been landed over in Chiba Prefecture a week earlier. By last reports, the company was actually on the trail of the elusive Japanese artillerymen. Thusly, the fire had stopped long enough for the three divisions to be distributed amongst the transport units.

As opposed to the predictable "everybody on the train" approach, Cornelia was dividing her forces. Although an aquatic landing to the north by Army Rangers was out of the question, due to the lurking Japanese submarines, not to mention the shady-looking Chinese flotilla, ground insertions and minor air drops were permitted within certain ranges of the mountains. Two of the divisions were being inserted on foot and via the Fifth Armored Division; the remainder were told to go in low-key, utilizing civilian vehicles and stealthy High-Altitude, High-Opening (HAHO) jumps from transport aircraft.

And from a running tactical assessment through the week, the primary attackers were decided to be heavily-armed infantry units supported by armor and light assault vehicles. The Sutherlands and Gloucesters were relegated to support and escort roles. It had been decided that the Japanese Burai were simply too well camouflaged and highly maneuverable in their own familiar territory. If Knightmare-to-Knightmare combat _had _to occur, then the Britannian pilots would do their best to ensure that it was on their own terms, and within relatively secured areas.

Cornelia was currently hunched over a tactical display along with Alex and Darlton, going through one last review of their plan of attack. Each of the commanders would lead a division up the mountains; Cornelia from the southwest, Darlton from the southeast, and Alex from the east-northeast.

"So, we have pre-designated the locations of thirty-two confirmed JLF access and dispersal hatches throughout the mountains, as well as twenty more suspected locations," the princess briefed her two friends and mentors. "If any unit is to reach any of these locations, they are to assess the JLF presence within the immediate vicinity, and depending on the assessment, either attempt to infiltrate the base or mark the hatch for a surgical strike."

Darlton nodded in affirmation. "Two companies of Rangers will be moving away from the main fight and scaling the steeper snow-capped slopes, gaining sufficient altitude to move along the ridgelines until their come to any aircraft facility exits or anti-aircraft emplacements. Once there, depending on their numbers, they will also attempt to infiltrate, or remove any triple-A emplacements to make way for high-altitude aerial insertion teams, who will approach by Blackhawk and Chinook."

"Finally, if any aggressor units are to come below sufficient strength to continue united forward movement, the troops are to disperse into squads and fireteams, and act independently in harassment and infiltration operations," Alex concluded. The trio nodded to each other and moved away for their transports. This time, Cornelia herself would command the battle from a mobile group of command and control (C2) vehicles, which would circle the area just outside of the marked zone of engagement; Darlton would move into the engagement as a part of a Gloucester support team; and Alex would be part of a tank group, which was to move into and set up a command center in the town of New Narita itself.

"Good luck, and Godspeed, gentlemen," Cornelia muttered.

"Godspeed," the pair of generals said softly in reply. There was no roaring "All Hail Britannia" this time. This time, all they could do was pray for it to end quickly and decisively.

* * *

><p><strong>Same time<br>JLF Central Command, Hida Mountains**

Just as Cornelia called for the forward motion of her troops, General Katase Tatewaki finished briefing the last remnants of the mountains' defenders.

"Our latest intelligence reports that Cornelia is taking an entirely different approach this time around," he spoke gravely, his hands clasped behind his back as he paced in front of the tactical display. "Her forces will be divided and inserted simultaneously through different methods, a few of which we have not yet been able to discern. This time, Knightmares will not be the primary aggressors; the common infantryman will earn his keep on this foggy morning. Your responsibilities will include high-altitude observation and target-painting, as well as forward alerts regarding any aircraft which may attempt to enter the combat area. Our radar is being hampered by the weather, as well as the mountains' natural content and arrangement; the best eyes here will be the ones in your own head. You have the hearts and minds of the people on your side, ladies and gentlemen; do not let them down."

The unit in question, a specialized sniper group, snapped to attention from their rest and saluted as one. "_Hai, Taishou!"_

He dismissed them with a wave of his hand, and turned to face Colonel Kyoshiro Tohdoh, who would be leading a fast-attack group.

"Colonel, I needn't remind you of what is at stake should you fail," he intoned darkly. The Miracle Maker of Itsukushima nodded solemnly.

"I shall defend these mountains with my very life, as I will do for my country, taishou." Beside him, the Four Holy Swords nodded in agreement.

"The name of _Shiseiken_… is not for show," Kosetsu Urabe spoke resolutely.

"Then _prove it_, Kosetsu-san," Katase spat in annoyance. "After your less-than impressive performance in Nagasaki, several have raised questions in regards to your collective competence as elite warriors of Japan." Tohdoh and his subordinates were shocked by the harsh words, but nonetheless retained neutral expressions as they took a short bow and left.

Ishitora entered from the far end of the room, opposite the doors from which the previous five had egressed.

"I didn't believe that the criticism was _quite _that harsh, General," he spoke lightly, a slight smirk on his face. Katase's glare wiped it out of existence.

"Don't think I forgot about the Special Forces platoon you wasted at Kawaguchi, Lieutenant Misato," he ground out. Obviously the man was quite unnerved, and was frustrated with his current lack of up-to-date intelligence.

"With all due respect, Katase-taishou, my loss was due to their blatant failure," the army lieutenant pointed out nonchalantly, taking a seat and swinging around lazily in a spinning desk chair. His superior might have face palmed at his subordinate's attitude, were his mood not so foul at the moment.

"Regardless, you should've called them off as soon as you received word of Delta intervention," he attempted.

"Radio jamming by the Britannian cordon – they cut us off from the infiltration force right as Delta choppers arrived in the area," Ishitora responded without hesitation. He met his superior's expression of annoyance with a collected visage of his own. After a full minute, the general backed down with a sigh.

"Just get down to Narita and do your damned job," the aging man snapped. The lieutenant gave an amused half-salute before casually sauntering out the door. "How that boy is still a lieutenant, I will never know…" he groaned tiredly. "I would've expected him to be hanging over Tohdoh's shoulder as a Brigadier by now…"

* * *

><p><strong>0300 hours<br>JLF Forward Command Center, Hida Mountains**

The FCC assembly area was packed with the entire Fourteenth Infantry Battalion, already armed to the teeth and ready for action. As the troops checked their weapons and gear, the separate company and platoon commanders congregated in the forward bunker, sitting high up on the cliff face overlooking a broad expanse of sloping forest.

"So what is the plan of attack?" one man inquired bluntly, his arms folded as he leaned against the bunker's 130mm cannon.

"We'll be dispersing throughout the forest and the smaller settlements, and we once the Britannians are far enough in," the battalion commander replied calmly. "Apart from generic instructions and coordination with other units, the plan is to put up strong fronts on either flank, while the center slowly draws back and lures them in. Once the bulk of their forces are inside the ambush zone, we'll seal the gap and raze the forest."

"What's our primary mode of assault?" another asked from the doorway.

"The infantry, of course; even a Britannian Knightmare pilot can't outsmart a determined Japanese man with a rocket launcher," he said, earning chuckles from his comrades. "The primary forces will consist of heavy infantrymen, scouts and engineers, supported by LAVs and light armor. The engineers are out right now mining the roads and setting up ambush positions. Our latest scout reports indicate that the Britannians will be arriving for their assault by 0400 hours; we will begin to enter the battle, one group at a time, at 0410, and at five minute intervals from then on. We will be supported by limited-mobility tanks and artillery, and we'll have a full division of infantry and armor on standby in the base. Our primary objective is to defend all access points to the internal facilities themselves; if the Britannians manage to enter any external facilities, our orders are to use emergency defenses or demolitions to seal off the tunnels."

The commanders nodded in affirmative, and set off to relay the orders to their troops. Once this was complete, the men dispersed and departed with a multitude of vehicles, ranging from Type 96 APCs to civilian Kawasaki dirt bikes. Within minutes, the southwest side of the Hida Mountains had become a veritable death trap for the unskilled or unprepared navigator. Mines occupied every roadway, and snipers and scouts made themselves comfortable in their own little foxholes and on tree branches. The foliage in the woods had been allowed by the JLF to grow wildly, creating natural hedgerows for the tanks and rocketeers to dig into. Up in the mountains, artillery emplacements sighted in on several pre-designated road systems, along with a recently-repurposed weapon from the mechanics.

"_This is Kyushu-Nii to Sapporo-Ichi, is the Raikou Kai operational yet?"_ one of the artillery batteries asked of another.

"_Roger, Kyushu, the Subsonic Ballistic Rail Cannon Raikou Kai is fully operational and awaiting spotter coordinates,"_ the second battery replied. Outside of his position, the modified shrapnel cannon stood at the ready.

Most of the main cannon's design remained intact, but the mountings and munitions delivery system had definitely been revamped. Instead of four salvaged Glasgows acting as support pillars, two Heavy Assault Burai stood on either side of the middle, while the rear was mounted on a modified missile truck. When the trajectory of the cannon had to be adjusted, the rear of the cannon could be raised and lowered by the truck, and further fine-tuned by the adjustments of the frontal Knightmares' stances. Inside the cannon, the shells had been weighted to allow them to arc, while still maintaining most of their speed, and twice the effective distance of a normal heavy artillery emplacement. Finally, instead of ball-bearings inside of the shell, each projectile was a 5-inch, contact-detonation grenade. The main shell could be set to release at a predetermined height, allowing the explosives to disperse accordingly.

It was, summarily, an extremely versatile and frightening weapon, even to the gunners of the monolithic terror of warfare.

"_Attention all units, Britannian forces approaching from three directions! Numbers estimated at fifty thousand!"_

"_Incoming artillery barrage!"_

* * *

><p><strong>0330 hours<br>New Narita, Hida Mountains**

The Britannian OSI agent Robinson walked casually through the town, his hands pocketed and resting on a pair of non-standard Glock 18 machine pistols. His custom-tailored dress pants allowed him to carry them without much of a noticeable bulge, but it was better to be safe than sorry in a hostile environment.

The town itself was surprisingly normal for a location under threat of an impending assault. There was definitely not as much activity as usual, but he had to guess that some had chosen to flee while others carried on with their lives. The fact that the remaining civilians were all Elevens subtly hinted at selective information, though. He was feeling a bit more paranoid than usual, being the only Britannian on a street full of natives.

He casually strolled through the area, heading in the general direction of the mountains, where he would go stealth and scope out the area and pinpoint targets of interest for the army units.

Absorbed by his thoughts, he barely noticed the approaching Eleven man until he accidently bumped into him.

"Sorry about that," the undercover agent apologized.

"It's no problem," the other man grinned back sheepishly. "Although, may I be so bold, sir, as to ask why you remain in the town, while the other Britannians have fled for the outlying areas?"

"Well, um," he stumbled over his words a bit, managing to cover it up with a slight cough, "My boss at the bank forgot a few accounting files back in his office, and I volunteered to go back and retrieve them."

"Oh, I see," the Eleven said in realization. "Are you from Ken's office?"

Robinson recognized the JLF code which his men had intercepted. "No, I work for Kaito."

"Ahh…" the man drawled. "Well, that makes sense. Anyway, good luck; best get out of here before sunrise, there's supposed to be some rain." He turned and started off in another direction.

"Alright, thanks!" he called after the man. The agent began to walk away, but jerked in surprise as he heard pounding feet behind him. Robinson had no time to react as a kick hit the back of his leg, bringing him to a kneeling position, and he was slammed to the pavement, his arms and legs pinned to the ground.

"You rank-amateur," the Eleven from before sneered as he located Robinson's pistols and tossed them away, "You damned Britannian OSI spooks think you're so hot, intercepting our radio traffic. Well here's some news for you: we knew the radio channel was spiked, so after the code was intercepted, we sent out a second counter-sign by runner to our troops in town. Your response to my last statement should've been, 'It'll be fine, I've got my umbrella,' which is code for your assigned bunker. Your people should've used infiltrators to check the full code; oh wait, you don't have any!"

Robinson could only remain silent as he contemplated his potentially fatal intelligence failure. His fears were confirmed by the JLF man's final statement.

"But I suppose you don't have to worry about making another mistake like that _ever again_, now do you?"

A Komatsu LAV roared around the corner of the street, coming to a stop next to them. The rear passenger door slammed open, and the OSI agent was thrown into the waiting hands of a pair of burly JLF infantrymen. As the door shut again, he was pistol-whipped over the back of the head, and the vehicle zoomed off.

The JLF agent grinned in satisfaction and eyed the pair of Glocks. "Nice straps," he commented to no one, taking the guns and slipping them into a pair of empty holsters inside his suit coat. He walked off, whistling a cheery tune as the dim orange light of dawn glowed from behind the mountains.

Those who had seen the event simply walked on, discreetly checking the weapons underneath their coats. One man walked over the spot where Robinson had dropped his guns, and reached down, pretending to pick up a coin on the ground. Said "coin" turned out to be a small blinking transmitter, which was crushed with a simple clenching of the man's fist.

* * *

><p><strong>0345 hours<br>C-5 Galaxy, 30,000 feet above sea level**

Two platoons of the 31st Britannian Mountain Division, along with a squad of Ranger specialists, were circling outside of any potential AAA ranges along the mountains.

Once the signal was given of the confirmed destruction of any major anti-aircraft positions, the entire group would be dropping straight onto the ridgelines of the mountains, and moving along them to search for any high-altitude aircraft launch facilities, which they already knew existed, just not specifically where.

When one of the facilities was found, it would be marked for infiltration by airborne Special Forces teams, who would also insert via HAHO jumps.

The back ramp lowered slightly, and one of the men peered out in time to see a handful of fireballs erupt on the ground. "That's the signal! LET'S GO!"

"**HOOAH!"** the others shouted in reply, moving from their seats into two columns on either side of the cargo hold. Two men stood on either side of the ramp, and waved the troops through two-by-two to jump.

Ranger First Sergeant Ian Hernandez adjusted his grip on his M416 assault carbine as he made it to the ramp. He looked over to his left, where his partner, First Sergeant John Mendoza, nodded at him. He returned the gesture, and faced the open air.

The Ranger by the door looked up at the light on the hull, and waved them through as it turned green. "RANGERS LEAD THE WAY! GO, GO, GO!"

"HOOAH!" Ian and John cried out in sync as they sprinted down the ramp and took the final leap.

They both lived for this moment; all of them did. It was the adrenaline rush, and then the peaceful drift back to Earth, which might also be described as the "Descent into Hell," or "The Calm before the Storm."

For the moment, it was a free-fall for another three thousand feet. At that marker, both men yanked the cords on their packs, and were jerked upwards slightly as their parachutes fluttered out. Below them, a dozen more olive-drab 'chutes rippled in the wind as they descended, and upon looking upwards, roughly another two dozen dark forms hurtled to Earth in the dim light.

The descent was calm, as was to be expected, and upon scanning the ground with night-vision and infrared devices, determined to be unopposed. The platoons touched down two by two, and established a perimeter as the others landed. Once all forty men had touched solid ground, the group divided up into five-man fireteams and moved along the broad ridgeline.

The standard weapon was the newly-incorporated M416 assault carbine, which boasted a higher rate of fire and stopping power than the M4A1. Granted, it was an H&K design; but Britannia stole it fair and square. Everyone's rifles bore S2 Suppressors and electronic scopes, which could be switched between thermal and normal vision with a simple click of a side knob.

The rest of the group carried either suppressed SMGs, such as the MP7 and MP5SD6, M249 SAW machine guns, or L96A1 Artic Warfare Snipers (AWS). The standard sidearm for the trip was the USP 9mm pistol, although a few carried the .45 ACP versions.

It was slow going across the hilltops, every man of both platoons looking both ways every five seconds, but eventually they arrived at the point where the hills became rocky ridgelines connected to the central mountains. From that point, the men proceeded once more in pairs and a squad at a time.

* * *

><p><strong>0400 hours<strong>  
><strong>Mt. Yukikura Artillery Command<strong>

The JLF defenders of the locale, a company of GSDF mountaineers, scanned the area around them warily. Today was the predicted Britannian attack, and all units were placed on high alert, meaning "shoot first, ask questions later".

The men were armed with AK-47 and Type 89 assault rifles, each loaded intentionally with green tracer rounds in the primary clip with the purpose of alerting the others to any intrusions. Should a kill necessitate stealth, the troops also carried suppressed sidearms, and the snipers were equipped with S2-S suppressors on their M24 and Dragunov rifles.

The area on the south side of the mountain had been leveled into a rough plateau, allowing for a full field of vision to the east, south and west. One platoon patrolled this section, while the other two kept watch over the rocky trails further up and down the mountain.

A pair of sergeants stood over the southernmost edge of the plateau, their breath visible in the chilly morning air. They had been forbidden to use any lighters or lights except in signaling, so neither could reach for the pack of cigarettes in their pockets.

"_This is Hawkeye 2-1, I have a visual on two tangos in Killbox Charlie-Omega; requesting permission to terminate."_

"_You have clearance to take the shots, Hawkeye 2-1; make sure to drop 'em over the edge and out of sight."_

"_Copy." _A series muted coughs came from a ridgeline roughly five hundred meters southwest. The first two rounds struck each man in the gut, winding them and forcing them to double over. The second two were headshots, which dropped the bodies over the edge of the cliff.

"_Clean kills, Hawkeye 2-1, clean kills," _a second team complimented over the quiet frequency.

"_Much obliged, Foxtrot; now get in there before radio checks, we have to be up the mountain in ten."_

"_Roger," _the Foxtrot squad leader confirmed, gesturing for his men to move up. The team moved up the ridgeline and onto the plateau, taking cover around the edge. The rest of the JLF platoon remained oblivious, remaining at their positions and watching designated areas. The squad leader raised his M416 and used the laser to point out two men with their backs turned, facing the upper pathway. Three men complied, raising their MP5s and quietly dropping the Japanese soldiers. Two more soldiers removed the bodies and moved on towards the pathway.

Another pair of JLF soldiers came around one of the rocks scattered around the plateau, and froze up in the face of the Britannian squad. Both parties stopped and stared at each other for a full ten seconds before both sides took slow and deliberate action: one of the JLF men slowly reached down towards the radio at his belt, while one of the Britannian Special Forces soldiers raised his M416.

Needless to say, the Brit pulled the trigger first.

Tossing the two bodies aside, the men finally reached the trail, and encountering very few attentive sentries, made their way up the mountainside. Dispatching the occasional soldier, the group eventually reached a cave entrance, where another Special Forces squad waited.

"_What took you guys so long?" _the other squad sergeant grinned at Foxtrot.

"_Fuck you guys, you bastards climbed up the easy side!" _one of the Foxtrot commandos shot back.

"_Both of you shut the fuck up and get moving! We have five minutes to radio checks!"_ one of the Rangers snapped, effectively silencing both parties. Gesturing forward with his MP7, the platoon advanced up the mountain pathway, strung out along roughly a hundred yards of the trail and advancing bit by bit. After five minutes, the head of the party spotted the tunnel entrance, along with the JLF squad guarding it.

"_I'm counting ten tangos guarding Objective Alpha at our twelve; we're gonna have to go loud for a moment. Make sure to stick to cover, we still haven't come across any of the snipers."_

The men sounded off with affirmatives, and slowly dispersed, crawling through the scattered underbrush into assault positions.

"_Steady… Steady… Going hot!"_

It was at that precise moment that a second JLF squad stepped out of the tunnel.

"_WAIT! WAIT!"_

It was too late. The machine gunners open-fired on the first group of soldiers, cutting through five of them, while assault carbines and SMGs took the rest. The second squad, momentarily stunned as they watched their comrades turned to bloody scraps, opened up on full-auto with Type 89s and their own M240s. Four regulars and a pair of Rangers were shredded by the fire, and the others still took another second to react as they reloaded. By the time they were able to respond, eight men had gone down, and the JLF soldiers were ducking behind cover.

A shot rang out from somewhere higher up, and the Echo squad leader's face exploded in a bloody spray as the high-velocity sniper round punch in through his forehead and was stopped in the back by his helmet.

"_Shit! Sniper identified somewhere at eleven high! Dammit, where the hell are Charlie and Delta?"_

"_Delta ETA is thirty seconds, Charlie's right behind them!"_ another called out. The men settled into the cliff side and exchanged fire with the guerillas, occasionally having one of their number picked off by what was soon identified as a pair of snipers, firing from different locations above them.

"Hawkeye 2-1, can you get rid of those damned snipers?" Ian called out over the chatter of the machine guns, which were only succeeding in chewing away at rock as the JLF rifleman ducked back into cover.

"_This is Hawkeye 2-1, have arrived at a new firing location – paint me a target, boys,"_ the collected voice of the support counter sniper came back confidently. Ian flicked on the infrared laser on the side of his barrel and paused for a second. He managed to duck down right as a muzzle flashed above, and a 7.62x54mm bullet ripped through the side of his fatigues and into his right leg.

"ARGH! Dammit, I'm hit! Hawkeye, I'm painting your target! Get rid of that fucker!" he managed to grit out, raising the barrel and aiming at the location from which the flash originated. Two seconds later, a shot came from behind them, and the JLF sniper slummed from his post and tumbled down the cliff, coming to a landing in front of the tunnel entrance with a sickening crunch.

"_Great kill, Hawkeye 2-1!"_ one of the others called out. A moment later, the second sniper followed his partner, actually coming to a landing with a matching crunch right next to him.

"_Snipers down! Let's clean out the rest of these bastards and get inside!"_

And they proceeded to do just that, pressing on with new vigor and wiping out the remainder of the squad. They popped the last man just as the Delta leader came up the pathway.

"_What did we miss?"_ he called out redundantly. Before him laid dead twenty-two Japanese and nine Britannian soldiers. Ian himself had discovered that the bullet had only grazed him, and had immediately wrapped it tight in gauze and insisted on carrying on.

As soon as Charlie arrived, Echo and Foxtrot carried on through the tunnel with a few men from Delta, while the other two squads moved further up the slope to try and find a second entrance.

Ian and John took point, their night vision scopes and goggles sweeping from side to side as they scanned each and every crack and crevice. There were lights strung up along the ceiling, but they were dark – the JLF knew they were inside.

Suddenly, the entrance to the tunnel, as well as the following ten feet collapsed, catching the two men of the rear guard and pinning them from the waist down beneath heavy rubble.

"_The second pair, dig them out and then catch up; everyone else, keep moving!"_ one of the Delta men ordered.

A speaker somewhere in the tunnel crackled to life. **"Your skills are impressive, **_**gaijin**_**; but you shall not leave this mountain alive."** Up ahead, two riflemen decked out in black and earthen brown camouflage jumped down from a hatch in the sealing, firing straight into the front of each column. Ian and John managed to hit the dirt, but the two men behind them weren't so lucky – they were quickly riddled with bullets, and fell dead to the tunnel floor.

The pair on point opened up on the guerillas, and cut them down rapidly. "Go in single file, it'll present less of a target," John whispered into his earpiece. The men changed their formation and pressed on. Every so often, some kind of mine or booby trap would either be detected or simply go off, and by the end of a hundred yards, fifteen had been reduced back to ten, with three Deltas, four Echoes, and three Foxtrot Rangers, including Ian and John.

The squad rounded a corner and came face-to-face with four heavily-armed guerillas armed with Mk. 48 machine guns. The group ahead immediately opened up on them, hosing down the group and ending one of the Echo regulars who hadn't ducked in time. In this part of the tunnel, small alcoves dotted the walls, and each man dove for them. Now behind cover, the squad returned fire, hitting one of the soldiers in the shoulder, and another in the head. The other two crouched low and rolled aside into their own alcoves, one of them pulling a remote detonator from his pocket.

It was then that John noticed a series of odd metal containers along the length of the tunnel. "BOOBY TRAP!" he cried out, diving aside as one of the containers exploded outwards, spraying several dozen ball bearings at high speed. This reaction continued all over the tunnel, taking down the last three Deltas and wounding a Foxtrot.

"_Dammit! They lined the walls with Claymores!" _the wounded man managed to grind out before falling unconscious, probably to die from blood loss fairly soon. The remaining five managed to finally kill off the two JLF, and Ian moved cautiously forwards to examine the detonator.

"Does anyone know how to read Japanese?" he called back to the others. They each shook their heads, until a voice called out from behind them.

"I do!" one of the men who had gone back to dig out the others shouted back openly, having lost his visor somewhere along the way. With him were two others.

"I thought there were four of you?" John inquired with a hint of disappointment.

"The last guy's dead – a hand grenade fell from a hidden vent and we just barely managed to escape ourselves," one of the others explained.

"Alright, since there's evidently no going back now, we have to keep on and see where this tunnel leads. You, can you tell what this says?" Ian asked, handing the remote to the man, who activated his helmet's tac light and looked over the kanji.

"It's broken up into sectors; One through Seven have been activated already, and there are five zones left. By my estimation, we've covered about two hundred yards; that means we've got roughly another hundred or so to go, and we now have controls for the other five zones ahead," he grinned mischievously. The men gave small noises of elation and gathered up their gear before pressing on.

Two more zones were passed without incident; the man with the remote activated the traps prematurely, which were a mix of more Claymores, toxic gas, and small mono-directional turrets. In the Tenth Zone, they encountered two more machine gunners. The squad dove into more alcoves and activates the traps.

The tunnel around the pair burst into flames, thanks to the Napalm canisters hidden in the walls. The two soldiers cried out in pure agony as they were roasted alive, with one of them crumbling to his knees and trying to roll around and put them out – his efforts were for naught, as they only served to press the flaming gel solution against his skin further. John took pity on the two and put double-taps into each of them with his .45, before advancing slowly as the flames burned out.

"Watch your step and move up," he called back grimly. The others complied, trying their damnedest not to look down as the smoldering gel burned down and almost through the bones of the dead JLF soldiers.

The last two sectors passed without further incident, and the group finally emerged in a small cavern antechamber, which was occupied by several scattered ammo boxes and weapons containers, the latter of which had been emptied; no doubt by the men they had just killed.

"Scrounge as much ammo as you can and take stock; it looks like they've sealed off this area," Ian gestured to the thick metal doors at the end of the room.

"I have a few kilos of C-4 from my platoon," one of the new arrivals offered. Another of the men also had a handful of shaped charges on him.

"I believe introductions are in order," John offered as he took a swig from his canteen.

The man who could read Japanese was Ken Moritake – an Honorary Britannian who had somehow, whether it was through skill or good fortune, made it into the Rangers, one of the least biased branches of the Britannian Army.

The other two who had come to our aid from behind were Evan Johnston (the one who had offered the C-4) and Joseph Henderson. The three remaining Echo regulars were Vincent Cornelio, Samuel Steele, and Marcus Leone.

Once introductions were sorted out, there was left the task of assigning squad roles. Ian and John immediately designated themselves riflemen, alongside Marc and Vince. Evan and Joe were both machine gunners, although the latter was also a sniper, but was reassigned out of field conditions. Ken was assigned to close-quarters, as was his specialty. This left Sam as the demolitions man, and as such was passed most of the C-4, a good number of frags, three med kits, and a Benelli M4 Super 90 shotgun to supplement his MP5.

Sam approached the door and examined it closely, putting his ear to it and tapping it a few times. He shook his head.

"Titanium composite with roughly five millimeters of Chobham plating; this shit is what they use for our tanks, gentlemen. We're gonna need either a lot of explosives, three AT4s, a pair of 105mm RPGs, or an Abrams with kinetic penetrators to get through this sucker." He demonstrated by stepping back and blasting it point-blank with his shotgun several times with different munitions; none of it, neither slugs nor buckshot, could even ding the plating. The men sat and contemplated this for a moment, before Vince's head shot up as a thought crossed his mind.

"Is the rock around the frame reinforced?" he questioned. Sam's eyes widened in realization before he facepalmed.

"Dammit, I shoulda remembered that from my demo courses…" he grumbled, taking a fairly small block of C-4 from his bulging pack and slapping it against a section of wall. "Get down behind those crates and plug your ears; I have to see how effective this will be." Once everyone complied, Sam himself ducked behind two stacked crates and held his ears. _"FIRE IN THE HOLE!"_

The charge detonated, sending chunks of rock out in all directions, smacking against the metal and plastic of the crates. Once it stopped and the smoke cleared, everyone looked out.

A decent crater was left in the wall, with about six inches of inwards movement at the center.

"Good deal," Ian said simply. Sam nodded and took five more blocks, roughly six kilos of high explosive, and stuck them against the wall to the right of the door.

"We might want to move back into the tunnel and set up the crates; this one has a good chance of being a little bit bigger bang…"

"Right," John sweat dropped and took up his rifle. Vince and Marc took up positions closest to the door beside Evan and Joe, and the others were in a row behind them. Sam took up the detonator one last time, and took a deep breath before handing it to Ken, who gave him a wry look and moved his finger to the button.

"It's only polite for the native guide to greet his fellows," he nudged the young man in the ribs. Ken flipped him off and mashed the button, prompting the entire right side of the wall to disappear in a large blast, which damn near collapsed the tunnel from its sheer force.

"Banzai, bitch!" Ken crowed cheerily, while the others sweat dropped at the Japanese man and took up their weapons.

The smoke cleared, revealing that the blast had taken out literally half the wall, and sent the right-hand side of the door flying at an odd angle to imbed itself in the stone on the other side of the next room, which by the way contained ten shocked and awed JLF soldiers.

Apparently they were unarmed, as they slowly, almost comically, raised their hands in surrender. John and Ian moved in with Vince and Evan to secure them with flex-cuffs, while the others stayed back and held the men at gunpoint. Ken looked over at one of the JLF officers, and his jaw dropped in shock.

"KOJI?" he cried out in surprise. The addressed man, Koji, did a double-take and then smiled at Ken.

"Hey there Ken, long time no see!"

Ken approached Koji and smacked him across the face. "For Kami's sake, when I last saw you _six months ago_, you were running a legitimate little coffee stand out of Osaka Station; What the hell, man?"

"Well, ya see, I was kinda keeping an eye on the comings and goings through the station for the JLF," Koji drawled nonchalantly. "There were always cargo trains passing through the yards, so my commander assigned me a post and kept me in deep-cover until about three months ago, when he recalled me back to headquarters prior to the Kawaguchi incident."

Ken sputtered and gestured wildly in shock, while the other seven stood behind him and looked on with amusement.

"Forget about it, Ken; wrap 'em up and stick 'em in a corner, we have to keep moving," Ian finally interjected. Ken sighed, shot a glare at Koji, and reluctantly moved away. Vince and Evan proceeded to move the prisoners into the separate room that they had blasted in from, sitting them down on the crates and confiscating all equipment.

"What should we do with all of this, Sarge?" Evan asked of John.

"Grab a few of the spare crates and put everything in. Sam, you got a torch?" he turned to the engineer. Sam pulled out a handheld acetylene torch, which he then used to weld the crates shut.

"Done and done; let's get a move on," Ian prompted everyone. Ken tossed back one sorrowful look at Koji, who grinned back, before complying.

"Well, dammit… Koji was a good kid," he lamented quietly. A few of them tossed him odd looks – Ken himself was only in his late twenties, and Koji had looked to be somewhere around twenty-one.

Their thoughts were cut off as they hit the next series of tunnels. This time around, John took point next to Sam, who brought his shotgun to bear. Next came Ian and Evan, followed by Vince and Ken, and finally, Joe and Marc took up the rear.

"Intelligence indicates that the Artillery Firing Platform is approximately a hundred yards above and six hundred yards away from the tunnel that we entered," Evan recited. "We have traveled over four hundred yards inwards and less than twenty yards up – that means that there has to be some sort of inclined tunnel or elevator shaft somewhere around here."

"Right," Ian nodded. "Ground-Penetrating Radar and troop movements have showed no indication that this mountain is connected extensively to the others. The area itself contains the firing platform, a garrison of at least a battalion for internal security, and several staffing and maintenance facilities. The others should've reached the upper tunnel and moved towards the garrison with reinforcement from the Second and Third platoons to suppress it; this means that any more opposition we might encounter will be highly limited, unless the command in this sector has called for reinforcements from other garrisons."

Right on cue, six Japanese soldiers armed with SMGs and shotguns, set up behind the cover of several stacked and reinforced weapons crates, opened up on the men. More alcoves along the tunnel provided cover for the Rangers and regulars, allowing them to return fire effectively.

"Frag out!" Sam called, tossing an M67 further along and sending three of the JLF riflemen flying along with the explosion and shrapnel. The other three cursed, and one of them swapped his shotgun for a Type 89 with something on the end…

Marc recognized the attachment from his part in the invasion. "Shit, RIFLE GRENADE!"

The grenade was launched down the tunnel, impact behind the rear flank of the group. Dirt and loose rock went flying, and Joe gave a cry of shock as a large clump of fragments banged hard against his steel helmet.

"FUCK! Damn, that smarts…" he groaned, feeling the surface of his headgear and discovering a decent-sized dent.

"Take that guy out before his aim improves!" Ken called up, prompting Sam to roll out and blast the rifleman in the face and chest with his shotgun. Before the last two could retaliate, they were cut down by a burst from Evan.

"Check 'em," Ian ordered. John moved forward and checked the bodies one-by-one, taking three flashbangs and two frags, as well as an extra shotgun, an MP7, and two hundred rounds of assorted 9mm and 12-gauge ammo. They all froze when a loud burst of static came from one of the bodies.

"… _Tunnel C, have you encountered the enemy yet? If you do not respond in ten seconds, procedure dictates that we can assume that you have been overtaken," _a voice said in Japanese. Thinking quickly, Ken snatched up the radio.

"_This is Tunnel C, the enemy is still in the outer areas, we haven't encountered them yet,"_ he replied in fluent Japanese. His response was apparently satisfactory.

"_Roger, Tunnel C. Remain on high alert; we've lost contact with the checkpoint near your position."_

"_Affirmative."_ He then took the radio and bashed it hard against the rock once the transmission ended. He turned to see the others gaping at him. "Don't just stand there gawking like idiots! We've got five minutes max before the next check-in, and then they'll know we're this far in."

Shaking off their surprise, the squad resumed their movement, traveling another fifty yards down before encountering a cargo elevator with two other tunnels intersecting at it.

"This is our ride; next stop, Artillery Platform." They piled in, and Evan hit the switch upwards.

Eighty yards later, they had reached the last tunnel before the firing area, and met up with three more Charlie commandos, who gave an update on the other two squads' progress.

"We're in the process of suppressing the garrison, but they're putting up one helluva fight," one of them reported. "We were sent ahead to meet up with you guys and secure a route for the others to come and back us up once they finish."

"Right," John nodded, loading a fresh clip into his 416. "We just need to clear out the bulk of any armed personnel up here and hunker down to wait for the others, and orders on what to do from there. Remember, let's try to capture this place; if we end up destroying it, the blast will probably collapse a decent chunk of the mountain… Right on top of us."

"Yeah, let's try not to do that," Ian deadpanned. The group did a final weapons check and started onward towards the platform. They spotted the tunnel exit, and Sam gestured for the others to stay put while he crept forwards.

He lay down prone and inched on, poking his head out next to a pile of ammo boxes.

Inside the cavernous space were twelve FH-70 155mm artillery pieces, each manned by a crew of eight, with two full squads inside as assistance and guard. The guards were armed to the teeth, while a few of the artillerymen carried pistols, machine pistols or SMGs.

"We are so screwed," Sam muttered in a slight panic. He drew back away from the entrance and reported his findings, at which point the men grew pale.

"Yep, we're fucked," Joe concurred with the engineer's assessment.

"The guns from this base nearly have Viceroy-General Cornelia's command convoy sighted in; we have to take this place out, no matter what the cost," one of the Charlie men replied resolutely. Sam sighed wearily and checked his pack.

"I've got four blocks and three satchels left; we can probably plant a few on those munitions containers and generators, and then slip out of those firing slits," he gestured to the wide elevated slots from which the cannon barrels imperceptibly protruded.

Ian and John drew deep breaths and exchanged looks. "We have to do this… We're soldiers, we're signed on to be expendable for the sake of our country," John muttered. Ian nodded solemnly in concurrence.

"But wait…" Marc interjected quietly, "… Why are we being required to sacrifice ourselves for a country that wasn't even ours to begin with? What is the point, other than the Empire protecting her own greedy and irrational conquests?"

"We're going to die here anyway, now is not the time to debate morals," Evan snapped back. He yanked back the action on his M249, and checked that his sidearm was loaded. "Now, here's what I propose: we blaze in and clear the front of the room closest to the doorway, whereupon Joe and I go full-auto, spray-'n-pray, and knock down as many as possible before we start knocking out the rest of them and planting charges. Hooah?"

"_Hooah"_, everyone agreed immediately. Ian shook his head sadly.

"If any one of us gets out of here, we're gonna have Victoria Crosses all around, have no doubt about it," he promised. "Even you, Ken," he added on for the Honorary Britannian, who nodded gratefully. "Now, let's kick some ass, take some names, and get the hell out of here." He loaded a fresh clip into his '416 and was handed three frags by Sam. "We go on three – One… Two… THREE!" he leapt up and charged around the corner with the others in hot pursuit, firing and cutting down a pair of guards effortlessly. The fire startled several of the gunners, some of whom dove to the cavern floor instinctively, whilst others turned towards the source.

The latter group was mowed down by machine gun fire as Joe and Evan opened up, having their belts hand-fed by Sam and Ken. By the time they finally ran out, two-thirds of the room's original occupants were dead or fatally wounded. Out of a hundred and sixteen combined artillerymen and soldiers, barely thirty-eight remained standing (or crouching/laying prone). The eight of that number who were armed guards started to return fire, while the thirty others either groped around for guns or stayed down.

Within the next minute, four soldiers and twenty gunners remained.

Joe hit the floor and fumbled for a fresh ammo box from his side, but grunted in pain as a round slammed into his left shoulder. Across from him, Vince took a bullet straight to the gut, and collapsed as his vest only slowed the round enough for it to lodge into his stomach.

Ken was slowly working his way forward with an MP5 in one hand and an MP7 in the other, killing or disabling anyone he came across. Running out of ammo for his MP5, he popped up long enough to toss the SMG hard at a rifleman, who took it straight to the head with a sickening crack and hit the floor, not to get up again.

Resuming his forward motion, Ken was now met with a pair of machine pistol-armed gunners, who were startled as they came to face one of their countrymen dressed in Britannian combat gear.

"_Who the hell are you?"_ one of them demanded in Japanese, gesturing with his pistol. Ken took out his .45 and shot the man in the head, only to have the weapon shot out of his hand by the other gunner, who discarded the pistol and charged Ken with a _ninjato_ short sword.

The Honorary Britannian met the action in kind, drawing his KABAR tactical combat knife and meeting the downward-sweeping blade. He then tossed an elbow to his opponent's chest, who took the blow in stride in and moved to knee Ken in the face. Ducking backwards, Ken grabbed the man's leg and yanked, throwing him off balance and crashing to the floor. Without hesitation, the Ranger proceeded to stab his knife into the gunner's unprotected chest.

The gunner looked up at Ken with an expression of shock, which then faded to one of resignation. _"I have no regrets…"_ he muttered before the life faded from his eyes. Ken nodded solemnly and removed the knife, wiping the blade clean on the man's shirt. Whispering a quick Shinto blessing, he moved the body out of the pathway and moved onwards, wrapping up his wounded hand and retrieving his MP7.

Back with the bulk of the fight, the numbers were down to one JLF soldier and seven gunners, while Joe had been killed by a headshot, and two of the Charlie commandos had been riddled with rifle rounds.

The last Charlie man's radio buzzed. He keyed his headset, and his eyes widened. "We have incoming JLF reinforcements from outside and through the tunnels! They'll be here in six minutes!"

Sam had already begun moving about the place, placing C-4 bricks and satchel charges on the larger emplacements and munitions stockpiles. "I just need to get the other side of the room and then we can get out of here!" he called back, following along Ken's cleared path to the opposite end. John quickly killed the last soldier, and the remaining five gunners raised their hands in surrender.

Ken approached the surrendering group and confiscated their weapons. "You all need to get out of here; if you want to live, you'll get as far away from this mountain as you can! GO!" he told them, upon which they scrambled for the exit. With the room cleared, Sam set the last of the charges and synced them to his remote detonator.

"The range on this thing is about six hundred meters; you guys need to go on ahead when we approach that range while I detonate it," he explained.

"But won't the explosion cause an avalanche or rockslide? What'll happen to you?" Marc demanded.

"I'll run like hell, Marc! Don't worry about me, we all just have to focus on _getting the fuck out of here!_" he shouted back, hurriedly stacking loose weapons and ammo crates up next to one of the firing ports. The others were about to protest, but Ian and John silenced them with a look and began assisting. Once enough crates were stacked for them to reach, Sam waited off to the side and helped lift each of them high enough to reach the slot. Once only Ken and Sam remained, they had an issue.

"Sam, I'll lift you out and blow the charges myself! Just get going, I'm expendable!" Ken argued, moving to snatch the detonator. Sam moved it away and snapped back,

"Like hell! We're all expendable here, Ken! You're more of an asset to the squad, now just _go!_"

The young Japanese man shook his head. "Evan knows how to read and speak Japanese just as well as I do, I taught him myself. Now I'm not going to argue anymore, SAVE YOURSELF!"

Ian appeared in the firing slit. "Sam, hurry the fuck up! They'll be here any second!"

The engineer was thoroughly torn. Finally, he sighed in resignation. "I'm sorry, man," he choked out to Ken, passing him the remote and pulling him into a solid hug. Ken returned the gesture, and then boosted Sam out of the slit to Ian, who quickly pulled the engineer up and out before running like hell.

Now alone, Ken settled himself on the largest stack of munitions in the center of the room, sitting in the _seiza_ position and clearing his mind. A minute later, his earpiece clicked three times; everyone was out of range. It was at that exact moment that dozens of JLF soldiers charged into the room, only to freeze as they entered and stare at the device in the Honorary Britannian's hand. Several of them tried to run back into the tunnel in full retreat, while others simply moved and mimicked Ken on the cavern floor in acceptance.

Ken opened his eyes slowly and exchanged final looks with his countrymen… And wordlessly depressed the button.

* * *

><p><strong>Somewhere on an opposite ridgeline<strong>

"Where's Ken? Did something go wrong with the detonator?" Evan demanded, looking to Ian and Sam, not realizing what Ken had done.

"… You know, they say that the Samurai were the ultimate warriors of the world; that their fighting spirit was unmatched by anyone," John started slowly.

"It wasn't just for their tenacity in battle, but rather their dedication to their cause…" Ian added quietly.

"… And their willingness to sacrifice themselves for a cause," Sam finished, his eyes slightly red. Evan and Marc's eyes widened, and they moved to their feet and started sprinting.

"_**KEN!"**_

And then a great blast shook the ridge, followed by a cloud of smoke and fire erupting from Mount Yukikura.

And it was that moment that cemented the memory in each of their minds… Of the Second Battle of Narita, and of Ken Moritake.

* * *

><p><strong>0500 hours<br>Sapporo, Hokkaido**

As the Battle of Narita progressed, a small Cessna 182 single-engine propeller plane came to a gentle landing at a dirt airstrip outside of Sapporo, where a small convoy of three BPG Land Rover Defender IFVs and two BTR-82 APCs sat waiting, along with a sleek black Astin Martin DB9. Lelouch sat on the hood of his car with Shi, while the accompanying fifteen armed mercenaries milled about, their G-36s and AKs slung over their shoulders as they watched another plane, a Gippsland GA8 Airvan, come down seconds after the Cessna.

The two small aircraft came to stop next to the convoy, with the GA8 opening its doors to release seven travel-weary German mercenaries and one merc pilot. The Cessna opened next, with three more mercenaries, followed by a tall, slender man clad in a business suit stepped down from the pilot's seat.

The man was in his early forties, with close-cropped platinum blond hair and starkly contrasting amethyst eyes. He was about six-foot even, fairly slender, yet hinting at underlying muscle. This man was Tyler Walther, the father of Lelouch and Nunally Lamperouge.

Tyler took a breath of the fresh island air, looking around for a few moments at the surrounding forest. "I now see why you picked this place for the branch headquarters, Lelouch…" he finally spoke, his voice deep, smooth, and evidently charismatic. "Absolute paradise compared to the No Man's Land that is Germany at the moment."

Lelouch stood from his perch on the hood and approached his father. "Natural beauty… And the capability to be transformed into a veritable fortress at a moment's notice," he corrected as he assisted one of the mercs in checking over and securing the plane. "Over six thousand miles of underground, seismically-protected tunnels, four thousand square miles of hidden hangars, barracks and training facilities, and capable of housing nearly five hundred-thousand men and women at maximum operational capacity, should the need arise. Every soul on this island is accounted for, in coming and going, from the single woman in Apartment 2C on Honshu Street to the old hermit living in a seaside cottage on the northern tip. Every soldier and cop is either on our payroll or knows to look the other way when something goes south."

"Is that bragging that I'm hearing, Lelouch Lamperouge?" Tyler quirked a brow at his son. "I can almost swear that your mother and I taught you modesty."

"Merely informing you of the situation, father," Lelouch smirked back. He retreated back towards his car, where Shi was already moving away towards one of the APCs. "Besides, after the lesson, you launched into regaling us of your overwhelming valor in the Middle Eastern Conflict."

The man had the decency to look sheepish. "I was drunk, wasn't I?"

"Yes; yes you were."

"Then you have a right to say that I never taught you modesty."

Lelouch smirked slightly and turned to the rest of the group. "Mount up, we're heading back!"

* * *

><p><strong>0530 hours<br>Britannian Command Convoy**

Cornelia sat in the rear of a repurposed APC, opposite a generator-operated tactical display table. Radio chatter filtered in through the operator beside her, who was feeding the data in to constantly update the display with anything that satellites or UAVs might have missed.

She glanced out the small side-slit as a team of Sutherlands dashed by, firing into the foliage and receiving fire in return, albeit of substantially smaller caliber. A rocket-propelled grenade flew from the trees and smashed into one of the Knightmares, impacting and sending it tumbling away in a heap of flaming scrap metal. A moment later, the Sakuradite inside was set alight, and another of the frame's team was caught in the blast.

This appeared to be the pattern of the morning; give and take. Unfortunately, the Britannian forces were taking much more than they could give. Projected casualty figures were relatively even, but the Japanese apparently had them outnumbered by at least a three-to-one margin. At the moment, the latter had the home field advantage, especially with their primary artillery base raining fire down on everything that moved and wasn't IFF-registered.

Suddenly, a massive thundering blast echoed from somewhere in the mountains, causing a unanimous pause in the fighting. Cornelia immediately switched to UAV camera feed, and saw smoke and fire billowing out of one of the mountains.

"Report!" she called over the comm line, "What the hell was that?"

"… _It was the suspected JLF artillery base at Mount Yukikura! I repeat: the Rangers just blew up the JLF artillery base!"_ a soldier called back joyously over the frequency. Several cheers rang out in response, and the Britannians charged in with renewed vigor. Cornelia herself grinned victoriously, watching as the mountain crumbled from the top down.

Her joy was cut short as the APC suddenly ground to a halt, shaking Cornelia and the radio operator a bit. She ducked and moved forward to the driver's compartment, popping her head in through the hatch.

"What's going on?" she demanded, looking at either and driver and then through the front viewports. Her eyes widened as she was met with a roadblock of two Type 90 MBTs, two Type 89 APCs, and a company of JLF infantry. The guns of both tanks, as well as three rocket launchers and a pair of machine guns were directed straight at their vehicle.

"_**Cornelia li Britannia! Step out of the vehicle unarmed with your hands in the air!" **_one of the Japanese tank commanders called out over his unit's PA, standing atop the turret of the vehicle, directly over the barrel. Four soldiers moved slowly towards the vehicle, their rifles raised and aimed straight through the viewports. One of them came around back and activated the emergency release on the rear ramp, only to have part of his head blown off as the radio operator drew a .44 magnum and fired twice. The other three soldiers quickly withdrew to cover, firing on the man as he tried fruitlessly to put them down with his pistol; he received three rounds to the stomach and two to the left leg, effectively ending him as he bled out on the ramp.

As seemingly futile as the man's resistance may have appeared, it had apparently bought enough time for reinforcements to arrive. A pair of Britannian M1 tanks rumbled up the road, having been on orders to stick to the rear of the command convoy with another APC, which was acting as a decoy. Three Gloucesters followed after them, two with assault rifles and the other with a large cannon.

The Japanese tanks opened up first, firing one after the other and crippling an Abrams. The remaining tank and the cannon Gloucester returned, each firing at a tank. The tank's Sabot round miraculously bypassed his target's gel-lined Chobham armor plating, blowing in one side and out the other, taking with it a spray of assorted mechanical fluids and gore. The Knightmare's shell, however, was stopped by the other Type 90's explosive-reactive armor, which blew outwards mere milliseconds before impact, prematurely detonating the shell and deflecting the blast.

One of the AR Gloucesters finished off the tank, firing its over-barrel grenade launcher into the same area which had just exploded, impacting in the effectively defenseless area and causing the entire vehicle to combust, taking with it one of the APCs at its side, as well as several infantrymen.

With this new distraction, Cornelia dashed back into the passenger compartment and pulled the body of the radioman back aboard, having lost most of his blood, and then resealed the hatch.

"Get us out of here!" she called up, receiving a revving of the engine in return as the APC reversed as fast as it would go, backing up around and behind the Abrams before turning about and speeding away from the engagement.

"Viceroy-General, we have to return to the central encampment immediately!" one of the drivers called back, "Now that the artillery is out of commission, the camp is no longer under threat, and you can command the battle safely from there!"

"… Very well," Cornelia growled reluctantly. _'So this is what regular combat is like…'_ Since the advent of the Knightmare, Cornelia had lead assaults based completely around Glasgows, Sutherlands and Gloucesters; prior to that time, she had been inactive, as the captain of the guard at several Imperial villas around Pendragon. Since the beginning of her military career, she had rarely seen combat outside of the cockpit of a Knightmare; her current situation was quite sobering, as she peered out of a side port and watched as several Britannian soldiers were cut down by a JLF machine gun emplacement.

* * *

><p><strong>0600 hours<br>New Narita**

The last thing Alex had been expecting today was currently happening.

From the moment his tank company had entered New Narita, they had been incessantly harassed by the JLF, who had solidly entrenched themselves in the streets and buildings. The town had been transformed into every urban warfare combatant's worst nightmare; armed checkpoints on every road, every intersection blocked off by MG nests and tank blockades, and snipers and rocketeers in every building of two stories and up. It was a process, but they had to completely clear out each and every structure.

His tank having been disabled somewhere along the way, Alex now moved through the streets with a platoon of regulars, carrying a G-36E assault carbine and a Desert Eagle .50 caliber handgun. The group had just finished clearing out an apartment complex, having gone in as a company, and coming out as a thoroughly battered and traumatized platoon of twenty-four. They traveled single-file down the sidewalks, clinging to the walls and prepared to dive for cover at any given moment.

Eventually, they arrived at the front of a small flower shop, which had its front door blown in from a breaching charge. The unit stacked up on either side of the door, and one man peered cautiously around the corner into the front room; his face was rendered to unrecognizable bloody shreds by a light machine gun. The man on the other side grabbed a pair of frags from his web gear and pulled the pins; he threw the first one hard into the back of the shop, and then tossed the second near the front. A JLF soldier went flying out of the front entrance as his lower half was blown away by the second grenade.

"_Move and clear!" _the sergeant called. Four men raised their MP5s and swung around through the door, cutting down an additional six soldiers and allowing the rest of the platoon to enter.

"_Room clear! Search the back rooms!"_

A flashbang and a frag were tossed into the back, eliciting a shout of surprise and then pain. Three more JLF guards were put down, and one of the Britannian soldiers stepped back in surprise.

"_General… You're gonna want to see this!"_ he called back, prompting Alex to move forward with his G-36.

"Goddammit…" he muttered, seeing what the troops were gaping at. It was a tunnel built straight into the floor; and not the expected earthworks, but a legitimate concrete tunnel entrance and interior. "This makes things twice as bad."

A system of tunnels underneath the city meant that enemy troops could be moved just about anywhere without Britannian forces knowing; this also meant that the tunnels probably connected to the mountain systems, meaning that an unbelievable number could be moved at any given time.

"We need to get a team of engineers and Spec Ops down there, stat," Alex told the team leader, who radioed it in. A second later, he passed his comm frequency to the general.

"_My deepest apologies general, but the last of the engineers are in the city working with the tank crews and assault teams; also, our allotted spec-ops people for this mission are busy clearing out the JLF FCC on top of the banking tower."_

"Dammit… Alright, just get me anyone you can spare and as much demo material as you can get your hands on, and get over to the flower shop on 16th Street. We'll have the area sanitized by the time you arrive." Alex took his finger off the communicator and handed it back to the sergeant. "Three of you, hang back and guard this area; the rest of us need to clear out this street and then wait for backup."

"_Roger. Kincaid, Hutchinson, Johnson; you three hang back and kill anything that passes without a Britannian uniform, and even if they do have one, hold 'em at gunpoint and check for ID."_

"_Wilko."_ With their orders established, the group split, the man known as Kincaid setting up his M249 on a stray coffee table and training it on the tunnel entrance.

* * *

><p><strong>0630 hours<br>Hanger 2B**

"_Let's go, let's go! The Brits are gonna be on us any second!" _A panicked flight control officer shouted, rushing the next two jets onto the catapults. The hangers had been launching out their fighter complements non-stop since the beginning of the assault, but the Britannian transport planes and VTOLs were coming too fast in too great numbers for the planes to be able to shoot them all down. Barely half an hour after they were launched, the planes were landing and rearming, having expended their four R-77s and R-73s, and even their machine gun munitions! There were simply too many to be stopped, and scouts had seen paratroopers landing along the ridges; the hanger security and mechanics suspected that they would be engaging commandos in close-combat sooner rather than later.

Rei had been running himself ragged as an independent fighter since 0300, having completed five sorties and shot down over forty assorted aircraft, as well as ran bombing missions for ground forces. This would be his sixth, and he would be going up with a member of Kaminari Squadron this time around. He vaulted into his cockpit and strapped in, receiving a thumbs-up from his mechanic that he was good to go.

His wingman pulled up beside him and flashed him the same gesture, which he returned tiredly. He received a great shock, however, when the planes launching ahead of him exploded upon takeoff.

"_**WHAT THE HELL?" **_several men cried out, groping around for weapons as Britannian Rangers poured into the hanger, vaulting over the lip of the entrance and firing on the startled mechanics and security forces.

It turned out that the commandos had fired Stinger missiles point-blank at the planes; the further plane of the two had managed to escape relatively unscathed, but the second had taken both of the missiles and gone up.

Rei wheeled the plane off to the side of the taxi floor and popped his canopy, gratefully accepting a Type 89 that was tossed up to him. He raised his visor and aimed down the sights, cutting down two soldiers with a quick burst as he leaned back in his seat to minimize the presented target. The area quickly erupted into a hail of gunfire, with Rei's Kaminari wingman pressing on to the catapult and firing his cannons up at the elevated hanger lip. His front wheel was automatically latched into the cradle, and his afterburners roared unabated without the safety of a jet wash shield behind him. With a loud hiss, the catapult slammed forward, and the plane rocketed up the ramp and into the sky. A missile flew from down the slope, but the pilot was prepared with chaff and flares, effectively negating the attack, and even causing the Stinger to impact and blast away part of the slope, taking several Britannian soldiers with it.

Emboldened by the daring maneuvers, Rei propped the rifle's bipod up on the console, simultaneously pressing the F-2 into forward motion towards the ramp. Firing off suppressive burst at his twelve, his wheel was latched into the cradle, and he sealed the canopy. The enemy soldiers were apparently too startled by his actions to effectively retaliate, and could only watch as the jet was tossed skyward.

Coming into the light of the rising sun, Rei's missile warning alarms blared, prompting him to mash the countermeasures key, and was relieved as the projectile was thrown off. Pressing on and reaching a relatively safe altitude of 7,000 feet, he suddenly burst forth and then went into a sweeping right yaw, coming back around to face his launch location. Slowing and diving at the mountainside, he lined up the cannon sights on the mountainside below the hanger entrance, and fired a burst of 30mm shells and a Sidewinder into the ranks of the commandos. Bodies were flung… Well, bodily, from the mountainside as the missile struck just below the lip, and the cannon shells shredded the rest. The reinforced infrastructure of the hanger remained intact, but the same couldn't be said for the assault forces, the rest of whom could no longer find a way up the now near-vertical rock face and patches of exposed smooth titanium alloy.

Moving back to cruising altitude, Rei grinned victoriously and radioed Air Traffic Control. "ATC, this is Crane Leader; I'm gonna need a new landing location for when I expend my munitions."

The frequency crackled before the reply came. _"… Roger, Crane Leader; we've moved several carriers out off of the coast to the northwest. Once you've used up your weapons, you'll have to make a run for the ships and then get your instructions from them."_

"Wilko; good luck down there."

"_Looks like we're sure as hell gonna need it…"_ Gunfire chattered on the other end, as well as a cry of _'NIPPON BANZAI!'_, before the line went forebodingly silent.

Rei chose not to dwell on it and locked onto the nearest formation of C-5s.

* * *

><p><strong>0645<br>JLF Central Command Center**

"Sir, we've just lost all contact with Hangers 2 and 3, along with ATC!" a radioman called out to Katase.

"Well, it appears that they're doing better than we'd ever expected…" the grey-haired general muttered. "Have the blast doors sealed and begin retaliation in those sectors. And have we had any breaches near ground level?"

"Not since the Yukikura garrison went up, sir." Katase winced at the reminder of that loss. Yukikura had carried a sizeable portion of their heavy artillery; while there were other smaller-caliber guns around the area, those 12 FH-70s had represented a major pillar of morale and firepower.

"Good. The aircraft saturation is starting to thin out thanks to our brave pilots; send out the Raikou Kai guns and have them begin bombarding troop concentrations."

"_Hai, Taishou!"_

* * *

><p><strong>0700<br>JLF Front Line – West End**

"Well, the Brits are definitely getting smarter!" a gunnery sergeant shouted to his comrade over the chattering of machine guns. The JLF forces had succeeded in drawing the Britannian spearhead into their isolated pocket, but it appeared that the Army Corps of Engineers were following after the main force, and had helped another unit dig in; the two flanks were having trouble closing the gap to finish off the maneuver. In addition to digging entrenchments for the soldiers, the engineers had also apparently counter-mined every inch of the damned forest that they controlled. It was too risky to send any of the Knightmares or tanks out in these conditions; infantry combat was quickly becoming the name of the game.

Ishitora had somehow managed to smooth-talk his way clear across the mountain, getting a replacement for his post in New Narita while he took a platoon to the western front.

Takao hadn't stopped grumbling since their relocation.

"For Kami's sake, we couldn't have just _stayed _in the relative safety of the banking tower, _nooo_; we just _had_ to come over to the most active part of the battlefield…" He growled in agitation, suddenly raising an RPG-29 and firing the 105mm rocket forward of his spider hole, blasting a Humvee to scrap, and killing several nearby Britannian soldiers. He ducked back down and threw the steel plate back over the top of the hole, covered by a carefully-crafted grass weave mat.

His hovel was big enough for about four people, or in this case, one person and a shitload of ammunition. He had been in here for an hour now; although honestly, it was kind of exhilarating and a little bit… fun. Not in any sort of sadistic manner that he was killing people by the squads, but simply by how he thought of the entire situation… a true soldier's work day.

A small buzzer sounded to his left, signaling his time for firing once more. He grabbed another rocket and loaded it up, sliding the plate aside and shouldering the launcher. He was shocked however, when he came face-to-Factsphere with a Sutherland. Stoically, he launched the rocket and ducked down as the projectile impacted, scraping the machine.

"Well, it appears that it's time to relocate," he muttered, replacing the hatch and moving towards a small tunnel dug towards the back of the spider hole. Moving as much ammunition as he could onto a small rolling board, he crawled through the passage for about three hundred yards before reaching his destination, a new spider hole, which was already occupied by a pair of corporals from Third Platoon. "_Ohayo_, gentlemen; how's life?" he quipped, shifting his rocket launcher and peering through a makeshift periscope at the situation above. When Takao noticed that a pair of Sutherlands and a smattering of infantry were directly above or near his previous position, he took a pistol grip detonator from his vest and mashed the button, watching as the demo charges and remaining munitions did a number on the Britannian troops. Earth was tossed skyward, and the Knightmares were thrown from their feet and heavily damaged, coming to rest face-up in the crater, both basically disabled.

"Sergeant, we can't keep this up for much longer!" one of the position's other occupants protested, sliding aside his hatch and lobbing a frag grenade over into a formation of soldiers, sending several of them flying. "We're running low on munitions all around, and the enemy's guns are starting to sight in the area for large-caliber artillery strikes!"

"Lieutenant Masahiro's unit already had to withdraw under pressure from Britannian armored forces," the second man added, "And FCC is calling for a general withdrawal from the area so that they can begin shelling; we can't close the gap, but we can still put down blanket fire over the area and up through the remaining corridor."

Takao sighed reluctantly and rose to take one last shot with his RPG, blowing out the side of a damaged Abrams. "Alright, grab as much as you can and start moving back – and rig anything that you can't take to blow."

"Affirmative," both men replied in unison, setting about throwing as much material as possible onto their own carts and starting through the tunnel. Takao himself attached the radio transmitter to the implanted C-4 charges, which he then moved over directly above the stockpile of munitions. Grabbing about half of his own original load-out, he kneeled on the back half of the rolling sled and kicked off with his leg, gliding along the tightly-packed dirt and bedrock floor.

Five minutes later, he and his men were back at the FCC's observation bunker, where he held the universal detonator for all of the explosives scattered beneath the field. As they watched the Britannian troops and armor press on in a solid wave across the open grassy field, he waited until the lead tank had reached the edge of the explosives' blast range, and depressed the trigger.

Nearly sixty kilos of demolitions-grade plastic explosive detonated simultaneously, sending huge columns of earth and fire reaching towards the sky. Cries of terror and agony rang out, muffled by the roaring of the blast, as Britannian soldiers were ripped limb-from-limb, or simply disappeared altogether. A full ten seconds later, the sounds died down, and the smoke and fragments stopped falling long enough for both sides to assess the situation. Several of the weaker-stomached individuals had to look away and find somewhere to spill their breakfast.

… The area was painted with blood. The earth having fallen faster than the gore, detached appendages and their respective dismembered bodies has fallen atop the rubble, which ran crimson. The surviving patches of grasses were dyed red as the liquid of life dripped from each blade and soaked into the loamy soil.

"Area sanitized," Takao intoned tonelessly.

* * *

><p><strong>End Chapter <strong>

**I figured I'd better stop there before all of the mindless violence lost your attention. But it's definitely one hell of a fight, eh? Guess I will have to make this four-part after all. Well, I think I've really covered all technical and organizational aspects of the groups involved in this section, so… Next chapter is the conclusion of the Second Battle of Narita, and a little aftermath that covers all parties. I actually have literally one day of school left, so I'll hopefully have more time to finish this between working periods. Review, please! I don't know how my readers would prefer this to go if you don't REVIEW!**

**-KFR**


	8. Act 2 Pt 4

**A/N: Welcome back, ladies and gents. Here's the final section of Act II. The battle wraps up, Cornelia and Euphemia make a startling discovery about Lelouch, and Ishitora… is his usual eccentric self, i.e. business as usual. Oh, and Takao has his own little badass moment in here somewhere, with musical accompaniment. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Code Geass or **_**You're Gonna Go Far, Kid**_** by The Offspring.**

* * *

><p><strong>Act II – Part IV<br>**_**"Cry havoc and all that bullshit…"**_

**0800 hours  
>Britannian Encampment, West Side<strong>

"It's only been six hours, and we've already lost nearly half of our forces…" Cornelia's aide-de-camp muttered tiredly, taking a long gulp of his umpteenth cup of lukewarm, military MRE-standard coffee. While the princess had been out leading from her convoy, the poor man had been directing every other element of this side of the operation – _'And most definitely earned himself a medal,'_ she noted from her throne. "Generals Darlton and Alex have been out of contact for the last two; the former was heading a charge up to the central mountain, and the latter was reported to have his vehicle disabled. We received some rather disturbing news from Alex before he went blackout, though: New Narita is full of JLF tunnels. They have a fortified concrete network that spans the entire city. The bastards are crawling out of the woodwork."

Cornelia didn't know how to respond to that; unfortunately, at their current strength, it definitely meant that securing New Narita was now an absolute impossibility without a thorough combing by the entirety of the Engineering Corps with more explosives than currently existed in Japan.

"When he comes back into contact, tell Alex to withdraw and consolidate his forces with Darlton," Cornelia ordered. "We've received word that Lieutenant Colonel Masterson's Sixth Ranger Battalion has infiltrated the JLF's mountain hangar facilities. Unfortunately, the Japanese managed to launch out most of their fighters before they arrived, and they gave us a good pounding before pulling back to the Sea of Japan, where the Chinese are apparently providing cover for a small detachment of pre-war aircraft carriers. Before the war, these carriers were mainly for ferrying helicopters, but we have no idea what modifications have been added over a seven-year period, or even how many exist anymore."

"Anyways, Masterson's unit gives us the best opportunity for infiltration, and as such, the Eighth Reserve Brigade will be deployed to head in through the gap and widen it for any other units that might be able to break through."

"A pure infantry assault?" one of the officers questioned skeptically.

"In essence, with minor support from helicopters and Knightmares," the aide answered in her stead. "This conflict has already proven that even our advanced technology is far from infallible; for the moment, we can only truly rely on the human elements of strategy, tactics, experience, and overall morale."

"Ah, one imagines the brassy tunes of the First World War, and the stories of brave soldiers fighting man-to-man in the trenches," Guilford joked as he entered the command center. "With your permission, Viceroy-General, I would like to spearhead the Eighth Brigade myself, on foot."

This announcement elicited varying levels of shock from the room's occupants. "Getting into the swing of things, Guilford?" Cornelia inquired with a raised brow.

"The Japanese resistance up in the mountains is said to be unbelievably fierce; I find that it might assist in that aforementioned morale of the footmen if they found one of their frontline commanders alongside them," her knight replied impassively.

"It's actually a very sound idea, General," her aide piped up once more, "Some of the JLF facilities' more gruesome defenses have had a demoralizing and devastating effect on the troops; coupled with the recent annihilation of nearly half of the Third Division, we're starting to lose our opening edge. Reassuring the men that their commanders are still here with them might serve to bolster some of our waning enthusiasm for the offensive."

Cornelia tossed a worried look to her knight, who returned with one of absolute resolution. She sighed in resignation.

"Very well, Guilford. Say, how long has it been since you've fought outside of a Knightmare, anyways?"

"Back in Area Eighteen, while you were pressing an offensive on the territory of Iraq, my unit was disabled on the Afghan-Iranian border, and I was forced to travel on foot for the next week until the supply convoys caught up with us in Tehran," Guilford regaled almost reluctantly. "It was quite the humbling experience, to say the least." With his story told, and the room silent, the knight took his leave, taking a major and a captain with him as he exited.

"Sir Guilford, are you sure you wish to go through with this?" the major whispered to him as they approached the armory.

"Major, have you been out to the field yet?" The major shook his head. "Then you'll be coming with me. We've sat back in our cozy command center for far too long; it's time to show the troops that their commanders are just as willing to get their hands dirty as the rest of them."

"Aye, sir." Both the major and the knight changed out of their voluminous dress uniforms and into standard BDUs, digital forest camouflage fatigues and jackets, along with black steel-toed combat boots, Kevlar and steel-plated vests and web gear.

"Have you been out as of yet, Captain?" Guilford asked as he finished clipping on the web gear. Looking over at the man he was addressing, he saw the captain strapping on his gear with practiced ease and swiftness.

"Aye, sir; I've been out on five patrols and three pushes this morning alone with my company. The men are weary, but we'll be damned if we don't beat out Company C in spent ammunition and area taken." Slinging an M4 carbine over his shoulder and clipping grenades onto his gear, the captain strapped on his steel helmet and clapped his two companions on the shoulders. "Gentlemen, allow me to show you the rules of this game, the one that goes on _outside_ of those cozy little Knightmare cockpits of yours." He took up two more rifles and shoved them into their arms, along with spare clips.

"'Cause about twelve feet below you boys, the rules are a helluva lot different."

* * *

><p><strong>0830 hours<br>Mount Shirouma JLF HQ, upper levels**

"Can someone remind me why I just got shipped four miles and back and six thousand feet up?" Takao asked wryly, leaning on a weapons crate and lazily flicking the action on his stolen G-36E between safe and semi.

"Because we have enough trigger-happy heavy weapon NCOs down there, and not enough up here," the guard captain snapped back, his own Type 56 Chinese assault rifle trained on the room's primary external hatch. "Those commandos just took out both of our primary fighter hangars in this section, and they'll be breaking through any second; there was only a handful of guards up there, the rest were technicians and grounded pilots."

"Have some faith in those guys, Kei," Takao drawled lazily. "Keep in mind that before Mister Lamperouge came along, half of those boys were in fact riflemen."

Before the man could retort, shouting was heard from the other side of the reinforced door, the accents clearly Britannian.

"Get ready for the fireworks, gentlemen!" Takao called out, kneeling behind his crate and leveling his rifle at the door. The guardsmen and assorted troops followed suit, and within seconds, actions and bolts were snapping into place in metallic symphony, with three dozen assorted weapons trained on the door. Imagine their surprise as the entire wall _except_ for the doors blew inward, and Britannian Army Rangers poured in through the gaps, firing.

"Smart bastards!" someone shouted over the din. Several men ducked back behind their cover and lobbed hand grenades into the ranks of the attackers, eliciting numerous shouts of pain as the explosions and accompanying shrapnel took their toll on anyone unlucky enough to be nearby. Still more soldiers poured through the gap, and soon, the defenders were down to twenty.

"We need to fall back to the next checkpoint!" the captain called out, prompting several men to crawl for the doors, as well as several camouflaged hatches. Takao, standing next to one of said hatches, fired at the rocks above and forward of his head, dropping a cloud of dust. He then jumped upwards and yanked himself up into a hatch, which opened up into a narrow maintenance duct. Crouching, he pulled the cover back into place, and moved a ways forwards towards the Britannian entry point. Priming three grenades, Takao dropped all three straight onto the heads of the enemy soldiers, and took out over twenty men in the ensuing blast. Grinning in satisfaction, the Master Sergeant shouldered his rifle and proceeded back to the next rally point.

'_Ishitora's rubbing off on me more than I would like to think…'_

* * *

><p><strong>Same time<br>Britannian 3****rd**** Ranger Detachment**

"Why the hell did they send us straight back in after we just nearly got ourselves killed three mountains over?" John called out to Ian, who lay back against a rock as machine gun fire poured in from the opposite direction.

"There's supposed to be a highly respected JLF NCO somewhere around here that was apparently present at the Kawaguchi Incident; our orders are to take him out!" Ian called back. He, John, Evan, Sam, and Marc had returned to the Rangers' outpost at the base of the mountains, only to receive orders to move in with a batch of reinforcements and take this guy out.

"Well why didn't they just show everybody the guy's damn picture and let 'em have it?" Evan demanded from behind them.

"Because then everybody would be seeing the guy's face on every Eleven on this entire damned mountain!" Sam replied. A triplet of explosions rang out, sending several men flying back.

"Honestly, are there hatches all over this damned place?" Marc shouted in frustration. "Grenades from the ceiling, Claymores in the walls, Napalm in the floors! All we need now is a hail of arrows down the halls and we'll have the modern treasure hunting adventure!"

A fresh volley of 7.62 rounds ripped down the hallway, decimating the advancing Rangers.

"Do bullets work for you?" Ian called back wryly.

* * *

><p><strong>0835 hours<br>Upper level Command/Security Center**

A team of intelligence specialists watched various heavy duty cameras around the tunnels, searching for targets of opportunity among the Rangers. The highest of high priority individuals, however, were the five men who had destroyed the artillery base at Yukikura. It was a longshot that they were anywhere near the battlefield, but these men were paranoid, and they held grudges for quite some time – a deadly combination, in most cases.

The commander was scanning the area where the most recent attack was occurring, taking an occasional swig from a flask of Sake, when he spotted them.

"THERE!" he called out, freezing the shot and pointing at the main screen, where the faces of Ian, John, Marc, Evan, and Sam were enlarged and compared to the original security footage from the artillery base.

"Contact the nearest specialist in that sector! I want those five dead _yesterday!_"

* * *

><p><strong>Same time<br>Upper level maintenance ducts**

Takao groaned as his earpiece buzzed. "WHAT? I'm in the middle of something!"

"_Takao, we found those five Rangers from Yukikura!"_

The Master Sergeant froze, and his visage split into an evil grin. "Have the men chase them into an isolate sector and seal it off; I'm going to have some fun with those boys."

"_Just make sure that you _kill _the bastards, Takao. Don't get carried away with your own personal amusement."_

* * *

><p><strong>0845<br>Sector 3A**

"It's like all of a sudden, they're all focused on us!" John shouted in a panic. He dashed through the hatchway just as it closed, leaving the five Rangers isolated from the rest of the group.

"Well we did kind of blow up their primary artillery base," Sam offered off-handedly.

"That you did, gentlemen," a new voice interjected from behind them. The men turned slowly and deliberately to face the newcomer, only to find the man they had been sent to eliminate. "So, I understand that you were all ordered to kill little 'ol me?"

"How did you know?" Evan snapped, but then shrank back as his comrades shot him looks that screamed 'You Dumbass!'

"We have security cameras all over this place… How we managed to pick up that particular little bit of dialogue, though, is a trade secret." The man reached into his uniform jacket and took out a ninjato, using it to pick something from beneath his nails. "Well, I suppose it sort of evens itself out… Since I've been ordered to kill all of you."

"By yourself?" Evan said cockily. "Yeah, right!"

Before any of them could even blink, Takao whipped out his personal Sig-Sauer P226 pistol, and shot Evan in the leg. The others, in their surprise, raised their weapons and started to spray wildly around him, only for the NCO to leap upwards and grasp a concealed railing, using it as leverage to swing up and into a hatch.

"I AM SO FUCKING SICK OF THOSE MOTHERFUCKING HATCHES!" Sam swore angrily, bringing up an M32 MGL and firing a 40mm grenade straight into the upper duct. They knew that he had already escaped, but it was an act of frustration above all else.

"_**Try and find me, Britannians!"**_ Takao's voice rang out tauntingly from hidden speakers.

"Oh, I'll find that Japanese sumbitch alright, and ring his goddamned neck!" Marc shouted back, loading a fresh clip into his MP5.

"Cool it, Marc!" Ian barked, prompting the man to back down a bit. "We're in the middle of hostile territory against an enemy who is far more experienced and apparently specially trained for these kinds of jobs. We have to tread carefully if we're going to make it out of this intact."

"Well in that respect, we've already FAILED!" Evan growled as he used a pair of tweezers to extract the round. Once he succeeded, he wrapped the wound tightly and clipped it off. It was a mid-calf injury, so it would undoubtedly impede his motion.

"Alright then Evan, you'll cover the rear then. All heads on a swivel, there has to be a central access to this stuff somewhere."

"_**Yeah, there is; although it's kinda over in the next mountain,"**_Takao's taunting voice said over the speakers. _**"So basically, one or the other leaves alive. Actually y'know, I'm feeling sporting today; you find the exit, I let you go free, and you get to live… Provided the rest of my comrades who've been shown your photographs don't find you and kill you themselves. In truth, there are **_**far**_** more important places that I'm needed than here; your men will never even get past the Second Ring, so this is basically just a little game that happens to take a few lives in the process."**_ The system clicked out, and the five men exchanged glances before cautiously starting down one of the tunnels, weapons and raised and eyes sweeping all around them for traps.

Takao grinned as he shut off the system; he had been lying about the controls, and clearly they had bought it, even though he had clearly been using a centralized speaker system that had to have a main unit _somewhere_. _'Man, these Britannians are STUPID!'_

He turned back and looked around the small hovel that made up the central junction of this particularly sector's upper shafts, which contained a small computer bank and a few weapons and crates of ammo. He strapped his G-36 to his back and also took a P90 with an attaché silencer, which was then strapped to his hip, and a trusted MP5MOD6, which was a specialty JSF customization that included a stronger internal firing mechanism that allowed for better stopping power, at the cost of rate of fire, as well as a mounted Holotech holographic red dot sight, attached to the top. Loading up with ammunition, Takao was damned ready for anything these bastards could throw his way.

He snatched up the controller for the traps in this sector and checked the cameras one final time before setting off down one of the shafts, towards the nearest hatch.

"Anybody hear anything?" John asked from his position in the middle of the advancing fireteam, his '416 sweeping from side to side.

"Nada," Sam replied from the front.

"Quiet as the grave," Evan called from the back, only to slap himself mentally as the men flinched in unison at the wording.

"Oh, it's a grave alright…" a voice spoke softly from above them, prompting the men to freeze in sheer terror and tense to jump.

"And it's all yours," Takao grinned maniacally, his P90 sputtering as the specialized 5.7mm body armor-shredding rounds raked the group. Everyone dove to the front or rear and fumbled for their weapons. Unfortunately for one of them, haste made waste; as John turned onto his back and raised his rifle, only to realize that the clip had been jarred, Takao's expression turned grim, and the Japanese man fired a spray straight into his chest.

John was thrown into slight spasms as the round thudded into and through his vest, and he coughed a bit of blood before his eyes closed, and his heart and lungs were shredded.

"JOHN!" Ian roared, firing a wild spray up into the hatchway as Takao ducked back, moving away. "DIE, YOU JAPANESE MOTHERFUCKER!"

"It's all just the reality of war, Mister Hernandez," Takao's voice echoed back, indicating that he was getting farther away. However, as the team started moving to their feet, he jumped down suddenly from a hatch further down the tunnel, and, sighting in his G-36's inbuilt scope, put a double-tap straight into Marc's forehead, leaving a single clean, bloody hole. Marc himself stiffened instantly, and tried to choke out a single word for a moment before toppling over. The last three – Evan, Ian and Sam – fired a huge volley in enraged retaliation, only to be further maddened as he ducked around a corner, undoubtedly finding another entrance to the ducts and escaping.

"That motherfucker is gonna die here… even if it means we don't make it ourselves," Sam ground out, looking down at Marc's body with tears in his eyes. His partners nodded resolutely, and dropped their excess weight, leaving only their primary weapons, sidearms, and one spare mag for each.

Standing completely upright, the men started off down the tunnels at a jog, Evan completely ignoring the pain of his wound through sheer determination and adrenaline.

"_I'm gonna let you boys in on a little secret…" _their adversary's voice whispered from all around, _"Y'know Clovis, and all of those officers that were killed at Shinjuku by 'terrorists'? That was my work," _he hissed with a hint of pride. _'The royal bastard begged and pleaded for his life with every last breath, promising money, power, women – he said he would even off any one of his men that _I _wanted in exchange for his own life! Shot him in the head with a three-round burst from an M16. His pathetic aids? Same goddamned thing, same words and all, and the same fate. General Bartley? HAH! That fat pig managed to blubber out even more sweet lies with the same amount of time. What do you think of that, huh? Every one of your superiors is willing to kill _anyone_ if it means that they get to live. Princess Cornelia, the Witch of Britannia? I'll give you three guesses, and the first two don't count – _**IT'S THE SAME FUCKING THING!"** He suddenly roared, appearing behind them and shooting Evan in his uninjured leg with the modded-out MP5. He disappeared again as Ian and Sam whipped around, their shots coming with inches of his face. They dashed over to the corner he had turned, only to find him gone.

"_That is why Britannia must fall. Your coveted Majesty's "Might Makes Right" bullshit kills more people every day than any other action or mentality in the world. You should feel honored, Rangers – your deaths will further our advance towards the fall of this_… _this… Gah, I can't even find the right words to express my disgust! This callous, inhumane, despicable… _**ABOMINATION!" **He appeared once more in front, dropping down straight over Evan and delivering a 9mm round straight into his forehead, execution-style. He disappeared, leaving the two thoroughly confused, bewildered, and damned _scared_ soldiers gaping as this man ruthlessly destroyed them, fueled by his absolute abhorrence of the Britannian system.

* * *

><p><strong>Security Center<strong>

The men in the center had gathered around the central monitor, watching in awe as Takao Yamashiro annihilated five heavily-armed Britannian soldiers, single-handedly.

"I think I have a soundtrack for this sequence…" the officer in charge muttered, turning back to his computer and tapping a few commands, before opening a music program and pressing play.

* * *

><p><strong>Sector 3A<strong>

The two soldiers were thrown for a loop as the speakers began blaring music, some sort of grunge/hard rock song.

_**Show me how to lie  
>You're getting better all the time<br>And turning all against the one  
>Is an art that's hard to teach<strong>_

_**Another clever word  
>Sets off an unsuspecting herd<br>And as you step back into line  
>A mob jumps to their feet<strong>_

Takao meandered lazily around the corner, grinning madly as he raised a pair of Glock 17 pistols and fired a volley straight at the pair. Both men hit the deck, firing in return as he ducked into an alcove, waiting for the next verse.

_**Now dance, fucker, dance!  
>Man, he never had a chance<br>And no one even knew  
>That it was really only you<strong>_

_**And now you steal away  
>Take him out today<br>Nice work you did,  
>You're gonna go far, kid.<strong>_

He jumped out again as the next verse started, and fired another volley.

_**With a thousand lies  
>And a good disguise,<br>Hit 'em right between the eyes,  
>Hit 'em right between the eyes<strong>_

_**When you walk away,  
>Nothing more to say,<br>See the lightning in your eyes  
>See 'em running FOR THEIR LIVES!<strong>_

Takao fired off the rest of his clips… And blew Sam's head off, starting with a shot straight between the eyes, and then mutilating his cranium in the blink of an eye.

_**Slowly out of line  
>And drifting closer in your sights<br>So play it out I'm wide awake  
>It's a scene about me<strong>_

_**There's something in your way  
>And now someone is gonna pay<br>And if you can't get what you want,  
>Well it's all because of me.<strong>_

From above, two shots came down and blew the assault rifle straight out of Ian's hands. Takao stood directly above him, feet on either side of the hatch and staring down the sights of his Glocks with a malicious grin.

_**Now dance, fucker, dance!  
>Man I never had a chance<br>And no one even knew  
>It was really only you.<strong>_

_**And now you'll lead the way  
>Show the light of day<br>Nice work you did,  
>You're gonna go far, kid!<strong>_

_**TRUST DECEIVED!**_

He jumped down and landed gracefully behind Ian, grappling for a second before grabbing the Britannian man's sidearm and tossing it away. He himself holstered both pistols and jumped back, drawing a wakizashi from his belt. Ian drew his KA-BAR, and stared down the Japanese soldier, mind blank with fear as he stared down his inevitable death.

_**With a thousand lies  
>And a good disguise,<br>Hit 'em right between the eyes!  
>Hit 'em right between the eyes!<strong>_

_**When you walk away,  
>Nothing more to say,<br>See the lightning in your eyes  
>See 'em running FOR THEIR LIVES!<strong>_

Takao charged with the guitar solo, his short sword swept back. He swept it up in an attempt to decapitate the man, but was met by the knife. The two were locked in a clash, and Takao pressed into the lock with total strength, his grin turning stone-cold, his eyes going dead.

_**Now dance, fucker, dance!  
>He never had a chance<br>And no one even knew  
>It was really only you<strong>_

_**So dance, fucker, dance  
>I never had a chance<br>It was really only you**_

Takao suddenly swept his sword aside and out of the lock, swinging it around into a reverse grip and stabbing it into Ian's thigh. Ian yowled in pain and tried to stab his knife into Takao's shoulder, but his wrist was caught and snapped through a swift twist in the wrong direction. The knife was then stolen and stabbed into his stomach, ripping upward and spilling blood all over the tunnel floor and Takao's front.

_**With a thousand lies  
>And a good disguise<br>Hit 'em right between the eyes!  
>Hit 'em right between the eyes!<strong>_

_**When you walk away,  
>Nothing more to say,<br>See the lightning in your eyes  
>See them running FOR THEIR LIVES!<strong>_

Takao unceremoniously tossed the blades aside, and instead drew one of his pistols, shooting Ian in the head.

_**Clever alibis,  
>Lord of the flies,<br>Hit 'em right between the eyes!  
>Hit 'em right between the eyes!<strong>_

_**When you walk away,  
>Nothing more to say,<br>See the lightning in your eyes  
>See them running,<strong>_

_**FOR THEIR LIVES!**_

* * *

><p><strong>Security Center<strong>

The OIC was first to speak. "… That was SO BADASS!" he crowed.

"HELL YEAH!" the others cheered in agreement. The comms officer opened a line to Takao's link. "Hey Takao, you still sane?"

Static reigned for a second before a reply came. _"Holy shit… What the fuck did I just do?"_

"You just did your duty in the most effective way possible," the OIC replied calmly. "… Except that last guy, he was a bit excessive; but the point was brought across anyways." Everyone then stumbled a bit as an explosion rang out from another section, the shockwave spreading across the mountain. "But forget it; the dead are dead, and dead men tell no tales. So let's just chalk this up as your ultimate berserker setting and all get the hell outta dodge before the mountain collapses on top of us. Agreed?"

"… _Yeah. Thanks, captain."_

"Anytime, sergeant. Now, come and help us rig this place up, and we can all go get some Sake over in Fourth Division's mess in the other base."

"_Right, I'll be there in five; I need to clear out the junction."_

* * *

><p><strong>0930 hours<br>8****th**** Reserve Brigade**

"Holy CRAP I'm out of shape!" Guilford wheezed, pulling himself up over the lip of the cliff face onto a solitary plateau. The major came up behind him, in roughly the same condition.

"Ya think?" the captain let out a barking laugh as he vaulted up over the lip, his eyes scanning the cliffs ahead for the enemy. "Jesus, we've only marched five miles from the trucks!"

"Haven't actually had to march in full kit since Tehran…" the Knight of Honor grumbled. "And even then, it was the survival kit of my Gloucester, plus a few extras from the infantry."

"Well just wait until we get out of here… Knightmares probably won't be the name of the game anymore when word of this battle gets out," one of the company XOs added in, gesturing to the large skirmish in the valley below. There were a few scattered Sutherlands and Burai, but otherwise, it consisted of tanks, light armor, and dominate infantry.

"Speaking of which, we'll be splitting off from the main group once we get inside, and we'll be heading downwards to clear out those bunkers from the inside," the captain gestured to the concealed concrete structures with machine guns and large cannons blazing. Just as he pointed, one of the 130mm cannons fired, and the shell impacted an Abrams, blowing the turret off and sending it up in a ball of flame.

"Right…" Guilford turned back to the mountain top, and traced the column up to their entry point, an open hangar door resting in the middle of a sheer cliff face.

It was at that moment that a momentous 'bang' sounded from one of the adjacent mountains, and something slammed straight into the front of the column, just below the hangar doors. Their cries echoed across the mountains, and the others began to rush as artillery fire from the other bases started raining down on them.

"SHIT!" the captain cried out as a shell impacted behind them, sending the three men flying forwards. Guilford recovered with little issue, having only been caught by the shockwave, by the major had taken a piece of shrapnel to the back of his shoulder, and the captain had impacted against a boulder head-first. The latter clambered to his feet. "Shit… I'm feeling a little hazy… Fucking concussion," he cursed. "I can't shoot with three of everything spinning in front of me!"

"Captain, you're no longer in a condition to fight," the major pressed, yanking a three-inch sliver of rock from above his shoulder blade, "You should find a medic and fall back!"

"No… I can't leave my men!" the captain shot back stubbornly, vigorously shaking his head. "I might not be able to shoot straight, but I can still try my damnedest to get us out of here! ALRIGHT EVERYBODY, SHAKE IT OFF AND RUN LIKE HELL LIKE YOU WERE TRAINED TO!"

"**HOORAH!"** a cheer rang out, as the men shook off the dirt, and others disregarded injuries in favor of making the seven hundred yard dash for the hangar doors, where a group had already reached the bottom and were tossing grappling lines up.

Longest seven hundred yards of Gilbert Guilford's life.

The shells fell all around, and the man was batted left and right by the concussive forces – but he forced himself to remain upright, and kept running. He watched as men were cut down in front of him, bodies sent flying by the explosions. He jumped straight through the craters and over strewn corpses, running purely on adrenaline, sweating buckets and struggling to keep his breathing steady. He was semi-consciously aware of at least three injuries, but the adrenaline wouldn't allow him to identify if any were major. A sliver of lead was imbedded in the back of his left calf; another in the right side of his stomach; and a third in the front of his right thigh. All were imbedded deeply, and blood was slowly soaking his fatigues and jacket at the sites.

The major's right arm would surely require surgery or amputation; in addition to the shrapnel in his back on that side, he had taken two more pieces to the underside of his forearm and the side of his bicep. He winced every time his arm swung in mid-run, but forced himself to press on. The piece in his bicep was roughly four inches, and only an inch was left showing above the skin. Another shard of hot metal streaked deep across his arm, and he gave a guttural cry, but only pressed himself harder, ripping off the shredded sleeve and tying it around the two-inch cut.

By the time the trio reached the bottom of the cliff, snipers had been added to the mix; at random intervals, men would cry out and fall from the lines, hitting the ground with sickening cracks and instant death. Guilford ducked behind a rocky outcropping, and the other two followed closely.

"I can't make it up the line; my strong arm's shredded," the major groaned, fighting back tears as the full pain finally struck him, and he nearly passed out. The captain smacked him across the cheeks a few times to keep him awake.

"Stick close to me, and I'll help pull you up. Guilford, you still good to climb?" The knight blinked out of his daze and nodded slightly, adjusting his rifle on his shoulder. The three took a short moment to mentally prepare themselves, and jumped out from cover, running for the lines.

He knew he could make it… He had to survive this, for Princess Cornelia.

Then, a sniper's bullet ripped straight through his injured calf, taking off a large chunk of skin. He crumbled in mid-sprint, falling to the rock clutching his leg.

It was all starting to fade… The cries and gunfire grew distant, his vision started fading to black… But then, a hand clamped onto his arm, and he was tossed back to reality.

"Come on, buddy! Just gotta make it up the face and we're home free!" an unknown voice pressed urgently, taking out a roll of bandages and wrapping them around his calf to hold the skin in place. He was pulled to his feet, and his arm was thrown around someone's shoulders.

He glanced around and saw that three men had stopped to retrieve him, and now were together making a dash for the lines. A length of spare cable was wrapped around his waist and attached to another man's belt, and a second helped him to the rope and then jumped over to another.

Guilford forced himself to grip it and climb, using his arms to yank himself upwards, occasionally pushing off with his uninjured leg for extra leverage. The man attached to him was pressing upwards valiantly, and the second was beside him, a hand at his back to keep him steady and help him up.

Before he even knew it, he was stumbling over the lip and the drainage gutter, collapsing to the steel floor plates of the hangar. The three men from before were dragging him out of the path of the rest of the troops.

"Stay with us, Commander," one of them pressed urgently, setting his pack down and pulling out medical supplies. Pain pills and a canteen were forced to his lips, and he choked them down, taking large gulps of the life-giving liquid.

The second man had set to work on his leg, unraveling the bandages and examining the injury. "That bullet took off a lot of muscle tissue, but it looks like it missed the bone; we should conceivably be able to get him through this by wrapping it up tight and using pain killers to take the edge off until the others clear off the other mountain enough to get a chopper in here."

"Well then do it!" the third man growled, "There's already injuries in the passageways down to the bunkers, the JLF has put up one hell of a defensive cordon in that area."

The first man nodded and set about it, while the second addressed Guilford. "I'm sorry sir, but it appears that you're out of this fight."

"No… I can still- GAH!" he gave a sharp cry as the slightest twitch of his calf sent a wave of intense, mind-shattering pain to his head. "Alright, I've got it…" he finally submitted, laying back against his pack. "Just, do me a favor… Could you find the captain and the major that were with me and inform them? They were heading in that same direction."

"We'll try and find them, sir," the medic nodded resolutely. "Just stay put, and don't try to move; once the other Ranger detachments clear out that artillery, or at least get them to shut up, we should be able to get a medevac chopper in here to pull you out." With that, the medical trio packed up and offered salutes, which Guilford weakly returned, and then proceeded to disappear into the steady stream of men that flowed into the interior of the base.

The Viceroy's knight sighed sadly, craning his neck slightly to look down at the wrapped wound.

"Well, this is one hell of a shitty wakeup call…"

* * *

><p><strong>1000 hours<br>JLF Western Front – Bunkers**

"Well, if this isn't just a bitch," Ishitora sighed, his hands held up high in surrender as he was held at gunpoint by a squad of Britannian soldiers. "I knew I should've followed Takao."

"Shut the hell up!" the squad sergeant barked, smacking him over the head with the butt of his M4. "You are officially a prisoner of the Royal Britannian Army – therefore, you have the right to remain silent, or you have the right to become dead."

"I'm quivering in my goddamned boots," Ishitora snapped back, to the surprise of his captors, as well as his comrades who had also been captured. "Save the fucking macho victorious soldier bullshit and just take us away."

Gan Asakura, formerly Takao's First Sergeant, stepped forward and clapped a hand on Ishitora's shoulder. "Ishitora-senpai, with all due respect, just shut up. We're being held at gunpoint for Christ's sake, have a little decorum, or else we're probably gonna get shot with you."

Suddenly, to the shock of _everyone_ in the bunker, Ishitora spun on his heel and landed a right hook squarely in Ken's jaw. The burly man reeled from the blow, and then shook it off and glared venomously at the lieutenant, launching a knee into Ishitora's stomach. This sparked a fist fight, which prompted half of the Britannian squad to move in and try to break it up. But when they approached, the pair suddenly spun and dispatched a soldier each, stealing their carbines and hosing down the rest of the squad. The "captured" JLF troops drew concealed pistols and executed the rest of their captors.

"Excellent work, men," Ishitora dusted his hands off and shouldered the carbine whilst rummaging through a fallen soldier's pack, "Unfortunately, it appears that our route back into the base has been cut off; we'll be taking the scouts' bikes and getting the fuck out of here."

"But sir, even with our current losses, we still have over sixty thousand troops within the mountain bases!" one of the men protested, "All we have to do is get to one of the other bases and rally the reinforcements, and take the mountain back!"

Ishitora shook his head. "In this mountain, all we have left is a group of five thousand or so, and most of those are the walking wounded; the rest are in the other bases, and the Britannians have cut off all access to this facility. The last group in the command center only has to clear out and blow the charges, and then either flee the prefecture, or just run over to the other mountains. Basically, this base is finished; all we have to do is transfer the flag to a different command, and we're basically still good to go, since the Britannians have neither the resources, nor the time to try and hit every one of the other mountains. They got a lucky break by hitting our smallest garrison at Yukikura; they know that they won't be able to pull it any other way." The men nodded in understanding, until a private spoke up further.

"But then why don't we just go to the other mountains as well?"

"Even if they can't _assault_ the bases, they can still create a blockade around them; right now, we just have to get out before they sure up the final cordon around this place." With that, Ishitora walked over to the wall of the bunker, and pressed a key on his radio. A section of wall slid aside, revealing a small tunnel lined with Kawasaki dirt bikes. "Pick a bike; we're making a run for the coast."

Everyone jumped onto a bike, and the wall slid shut behind them. In front of them, a hatch opened on the mountainside, and the bikes came ripping out, their riders clad in balaclavas and steel helmets, with machine pistols mounted on the handle bars, since any larger weapon's recoil would've thrown the steering off.

"_Split off into pairs and keep me in sight," _Ishitora ordered over the comm line. The men clicked their microphones in affirmation, and they started off into the woods.

* * *

><p><strong>1100 hours<br>Cornelia's Field HQ**

"In conclusion, General, the enemies within the command center appear to have escaped through an underground rail system, and detonated charges throughout the mountain to render it generally unusable," the injured major reported, his arm in a sling. They had managed to save the appendage, but he would require major surgery upon returning to Tokyo.

"And my knight, Major?" Cornelia asked, her voice holding the slightest tone of apprehension.

"… Commander Guilford was recovered when a medevac finally managed to reach the hangar, after the majority of the enemy's external artillery emplacements were suppressed," he started slowly. "He sustained a major wound to his right calf, which damaged a large portion of the muscle tissue in the area, but did no damage to the bone, thankfully. He'll be back up in a week or so, once a solution for his full recovery has been finalized."

Cornelia sighed in relief, slumping back in her throne and massaging her forehead tiredly. "Thank God…" she muttered. "Is there anything in the base that has been deemed salvageable?"

"Nothing of inherent use, ma'am," a returning Ranger gave a muffled grunt, the lower half of his face wrapped in bandages after a pulled passed cleanly through his jaw, "The Japanese drove everything they could out; most of what is left is just a few decommissioned jeeps and some old Type 74 tanks that can hardly be called anything close to working condition. Overall, nothing that was captured is considered worth salvaging. The majority of their equipment was also apparently relocated to alternate locations throughout the battle, presumably the other bases in the Hida Range; anything else was destroyed in the final blast.

"Any aircraft?" Hans Grimm's image suddenly materialized on the main screen.

"None. All of them were taken out to those carriers to the north," the Ranger shook his head. Grimm sighed in disappointment before addressing Cornelia.

"Viceroy-General, a few overland squads on the coast have detected fighter squadrons approaching to give us a few parting blows – permission to go up and engage?"

"Granted, so long as none of your squadron is lost. If there's even a hint of trouble, I want you out of there ASAP," Cornelia replied sternly.

"Yes, Your Highness."

* * *

><p><strong>1105 hours<br>10,000 feet above **

Grimm and his men were circling the airspace steadily, constantly checking their radars for incoming enemies. Their aircraft were updated F-15Js, the Japanese production variant of Britannia's standard F-15 Eagle fighter aircraft. Each plane was outfitted with four AIM-9X Sidewinders and four AIM-120 AMRAAMs.

"… _This is Wardog Four to Wardog Lead; I've got eyes on four unknown IFF signatures, presumed hostile, bearing 350. Should we engage?"_

"Not quite yet, Number Four; they might not have IDs on us as Britannians yet. Wait until first shots are fired, and try to get a sight on a squadron insignia," Grimm ordered, spotting the same four bogeys on his radar.

"_Roger, Wardog Lead. Guns are hot, not engaging until first shots." _The four Britannians turned and burned towards the incoming planes.

"… _**Unidentified aircraft, you are within restricted airspace with no known IFF signature – identify yourselves, or we WILL open fire," **_a voice tinged with Japanese came over the open channel.

"Unidentified aircraft, this is Captain Hans Grimm of Second Princess Cornelia li Britannia's First Tactical Fighter Squadron, Wardog. _You_ are within restricted Britannian airspace bearing Japanese IFF signatures; you will turn back now or be shot down," Grimm replied confidently as the two flights came closer to each other.

"_**Oh, it's just another blue-blooded little Britannian shit… Reiko-chan, what is it about Britannians that makes them believe themselves capable of piloting anything better than a trained professional?"**_ the first voice called to his comrade, his tone saturated with mocking sarcasm.

"_**I honestly couldn't tell you, Rei-kun, I'm just as appalled as you are,"**_ a female voice came back to him.

"_**Well, I suppose I'll indulge you before we humiliate you… This is First Lieutenant Rei Shizuka of the Japan Air Self-Defense Force Eighth Air Division, Twenty-Second Tactical Fighter Squadron, Crane. **_**You**_** are trespassing in Japan Self-Defense Force airspace during wartime operations, and therefore, you are to be terminated." **_The planes ahead of them suddenly broke formation, and the Britannians' missile warning alarms blared, followed by cannon fire rattling their planes.

"_What the hell?" _Wardog Three exclaimed, _"Those have got to be 30mm rounds! Where the hell did these Elevens get Russian weaponry?"_

"_**We have our sources,"**_ one of the enemy pilots replied, streaking past Grimm's plane in full afterburner. _**"Actually, it really isn't hard to get resources when you remind the suppliers that you're going up against the most hated people in the world." **_The same pilot swung around and was soon on Grimm's tail.

"Number Three, get this guy off me!" Hans barked as more cannon fire whipped past his canopy. He went into a hard left and applied flaps, swinging him around harder. He then went back to full burn, accelerating straight past the enemy fighter as Wardog Three came in and started pursuing Grimm's former pursuer. He was shocked, however, when a missile came onto Three's tail and slammed into his left wing when he tried to evade. "Alright Three, bug out and return to Tokyo; the rest of you, close up and start following him. Viceroy Cornelia needs these planes intact."

"_**Too bad she won't be getting them, then," **_the enemy lead, Rei, chuckled darkly over the frequency. _**"Tsuru One, Fox Three." **_A missile, presumably medium-range, appeared on Grimm's radar. He jinked hard left, hoping to have evaded, but was surprised as the missile continued tracking.

"QAAM?" he called out, popping chaff and flares and bugging out full speed. Rookie mistake; the missile disregarded the decoys in favor of the warmer afterburners.

"_**Tsuru Three, guns guns guns," **_one of the other enemy pilots called out, and Grimm was soon having his plane peppered with cannon fire. The missile faded out, but the other enemy plane was still there.

"Wardog Two and Four, where the hell are you guys?"

"_We're being chased down by these other two planes, sir!"_ Number Two called out in a panic, pulling up hard and evading more cannon fire. _"We're bugging out!"_

"Dammit, you guys!" More gunfire, and Grimm found that his left wing was barely holding together, and the entire plane was shaking.

"_**Tsuru One, would you like the honors?"**_

"_**Absolutely, Tsuru Three."**_ A final volley came through and shredded the wing, as well as caught the fuel tank on fire. Grimm was panicking very, very badly.

"T-this is Wardog One! I'm bailing out, I repeat, I'm bailing out!" he declared, ignoring the incredulous shouts and yanking hard on the yellow striped ejection lever in front of him. The canopy was blow off by a series of small charges, and the seat shot skyward on a rocket booster, escaping as the plane fell away. Grimm watched as it fell for another few thousand feet and then detonated in midair.

"Well, shit…" he moaned, "The Viceroy's gonna have my damned head." He looked below, and saw that he was above the Britannian encampment. He deadpanned and facepalmed.

"I _sooo _hate my life…"

* * *

><p><strong>Moments later<br>Cornelia's Field HQ**

Cornelia was standing outside alongside Darlton as Grimm floated to the ground. Her expression was stony and impassive, even as the poor boy was shaking in his boots when he touched down, stumbling and falling to his knees.

"Viceroy…" he breathed nervously, cutting off the parachute and moving shakily to his feet.

"Is there _any_ explanation as to why exactly you just lost your plane, when I gave you _implicit_ instructions to break off engagement if there was any chance of just such an occurrence?" she ground out through clenched teeth. Grimm took a deep breath to steady himself, and rubbed a hand along the back of his neck.

"… We were faced against an enemy Ace Squadron without knowledge, so for one, I'll cite faulty intel," he started out slowly. Receiving a slight nod from the princess in a "continue" gesture, "Second, they came at us hard and fast; their flying style was too aggressive, and we were unable to break off engagement until the last second, at which point my plane was already heavily damaged." Another nod. "Finally… They've gotten some weapons upgrades somehow."

This served to momentarily distract Cornelia. "What do you mean?"

"The weapons mounted on the enemy fighters were Russian Air Corps specialties; R-73 SRAAMs, R-77 AMRAAMs, and GSh-301 30mm cannons, the latter of which are produced _exclusively_ for RAC usage. Somehow, the JLF has managed to acquire weaponry which is generally restricted to Russia, which means they either have direct connections to the Kremlin, or someone with said connections is supplying them."

Cornelia was about to begin speculating when a technician ran out of the G-1. "Viceroy-General, there's a special announcement on HiTV – the BPG has declared war!"

"WHAT?"

* * *

><p><strong>1100 hours<br>Cornelia's G-1**

"… _And today, I, Tyler C. Walther, founder and leader of the Black Panzer Group, am officially declaring war on the nation of Britannia!" _a tall, slender blond man with piercing amethyst eyes declared, eliciting cheers from the men around him, all BPG mercenaries. _"Britannia has committed far too many atrocities against humanity, and the people of the world! But today, in this great nation of Japan, we shall fight alongside these brave, honorable soldiers of the Japan Self-Defense Force, and we shall help to oust these dogs of the Britannian military from their unjust occupation of a sovereign power!"_

"_The children of the generation who fought the Britannians have been raised under oppression, but we shall help them to rise, and shape their nation properly! And in the spirit of this… I will be delegating overall military command to my own son, Lelouch Lamperouge!" _

A gasp came from the doorway, and the occupants of the command center looked over to see Euphemia.

"Euphie! What are you doing here?" Cornelia asked in mild surprise.

"I heard that the battle was over, so I wanted to come see you…" the pink-haired princess answered, her eyes still glued to the screen. Cornelia looked back, and was shocked by who next stepped into the shot.

"That _BASTARD!_" the Viceroy-General slammed her fist on the armrest of her throne. "I _KNEW_ I recognized him from somewhere!"

"What exactly are you referring to, Viceroy?" one of the officers questioned. Cornelia took a deep breath.

"After the failure of the first assault, a single man penetrated _all_ of the Government Bureau's defenses, and broke into my office," she sighed, eliciting gasps from the staff. "He said that he was a messenger of _Tenchu_, Divine Punishment, and that three events would precede the fall of Britannia unless we can prevent them. The first was Kawaguchi – we failed. The second was Narita – he was referring to the opening assault, which we also failed. A third event, he said, would come as our last chance to stop the destruction, and that he would return to declare what it would be."

"That… that was Lelouch?" Euphemia muttered sadly. Everyone turned back as the man himself spoke.

"_Thank you, Father. I have overseen the BPG's operations in Japan for two years now, and I have seen the firsthand the devastation wrought by Britannia's careless illusions of superiority. In the invasion, countless wretched acts were carried out under the sick amusement of the commanders themselves. Under Clovis, the people of this nation suffered from his constant "purging", and the complete disregard shown for the native citizens of Japan. Now… Even now, we see Cornelia li Britannia doing the same, ignoring the people in favor of gallivanting about, trying to be the "savior" of the country from its own "despicable terrorists," the fighters for its freedom, when in fact she only seeks glory and fame for herself in the eyes of her _BASTARD FATHER _and his pathetic lapdogs! The only one in the local Britannian government that has shown any regard for the Japanese people is her own sister, Euphemia li Britannia, who is stifled in her attempts by Cornelia's restrictions!"_ The young man stared straight into the camera, and somehow seemed to stare into Cornelia's eyes, his own glinting with mischief and challenge.

"_For today, we have already seized Kyoto, the ancestral capital of Japan, and soon, we shall march straight into Tokyo, and decimate the military that seeks nothing more than the ruin of Japan's people! By midnight on New Year's Eve, we will have seized Tokyo, and Britannia shall no longer hold any sway over the sovereign nation of New Japan!"_

"_And once Japan has fallen… The people of the world shall rise up, and push the Britannians back to whence they came! DOWN WITH THE BRITANNIAN EMPIRE! LONG LIVE NEW JAPAN! LONG LIVE THE FREE WORLD!"_

"_**LONG LIVE NEW JAPAN!"**_ the crowd echoed, fists punching the air in unison as they chanted. The broadcast cut out abruptly, leaving everyone in awe. Then, they were shocked once more as a direct communication linked opened up on the screen.

"_You have three months, Cornelia. Somewhere within those three months, the third marker shall appear, and you will have _one_ final chance to stop the total destruction of your nation,"_ Lelouch declared, his expression impassive. _"Keep in mind, though, that every war is not won through the field of battle…"_

Cornelia was about to respond when Euphie jumped into the shot. "Lelouch! Why are you doing this?" she demanded.

Lelouch's expression softened, and he gave a sad smile. _"Euphie… I'm sorry that it's had to come to this, but your nation has committed far too many atrocities against the world. Something must be done, even if I have to take matters into my own hands, and lead the charge personally. After all… you can't change the world without getting your hands dirty."_

"You lied to me, Lelouch! You LIED to my face!" Euphie cried softly. He winced, and his smile fell.

"_I… I know, Euphie. I'm not proud of what I've done, and I hate having to do this to you. You are a genuinely kind, sweet girl, Euphemia, but I am a liar and an assassin by trade, and my father and I have made it our personal mission to see Charles zi Britannia's empire crumble. I… I've already come close to losing Nunnally; I don't want that to have to happen to _anyone_ if I even have the slightest chance to prevent it."_

Euphemia wiped a tear from her cheek and nodded in understanding. "Right… Nunnally, the sister that my father nearly took from you, after he took your mother…"

"… _I really wasn't lying yesterday, Euphie. I truly wish that we could make this work. But at this point… I don't see much that either of us could do."_ The princess let out another choked sob. _"… But that's not to say that I'm giving up."_ Her head snapped up at the added declaration.

"_I'm not giving up on you, Euphemia li Britannia… because you are a gentle, innocent soul, and… I love you."_

Everyone was stunned by the announcement, but remained silent so as to protect the mood. Euphemia herself was flabbergasted, albeit joyously, and tears of sadness and confusion became tears of joy. "Le… Lelouch…" she whispered, an absolutely dazzling, ecstatic smile shaping. "I… I love you too."

Lelouch smiled himself, and whispered lovingly, _"Wait for me, Euphie… I'll come for you someday, and then we can be together._

Euphie wiped away her tears with a handkerchief from one of the officers, and nodded. "I'll be waiting for you, Lelouch."

The young man gave one final genuine smile, and the line cut off.

Nobody moved a muscle, except Euphemia, who walked out smiling. Once the door slid shut, the others let out a collective sigh.

"One hell of a soap opera, I tell ya…" one of the bridge officers muttered, only to be silenced by a smack upside the head from one of his compatriots. "HEY! What are you…" he then noticed Cornelia's dark, pensive expression, and clammed up.

Silence. Silence. Silence…

The Viceroy sighed and shook her head. "What happened here never leaves this room on threat of death, clear?" The officers saluted in affirmation. "Good. Go about your business, we'll discuss this at a later date. For now, we need to get back to Tokyo and make a counter-statement. Are we fueled up?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good; have the vice-commander take control of the situation, and keep a steady flow of updates."

* * *

><p><strong>1300 hours<br>Ashford Academy Clubhouse**

Lelouch strolled over the threshold and into the ballroom with an air of near nostalgia about him, decked out in his BPG uniform. He gave a wave to Sayoko, who offered a soft smile, which he returned.

He ascended the staircase at a leisurely clip, running his hand along the polished oak railing and the wall. When he finally reached the Student Council Room, he took a deep breath and entered.

Milly waited on the couch in the sitting area, and she gave a sad smile as he entered. He returned it, and took his black beret in his left hand.

"Hey, Milly," he greeted softly, slipping the beret into his belt and making his way over to the couch. He sat down next to her, and the pair sat in silence for a while.

"… So this is it, huh?" Milly sighed quietly.

"Yeah…" Lelouch replied. "It was nice, Milly, it really was. I'm glad you understand." He turned to her, and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tight to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and planted her face between his neck and the shoulder pad of his Kevlar and steel vest.

"Promise me you'll visit?" she asked with an almost childlike innocence.

"I promise," he replied firmly. "As soon as this is over, and Japan and Germany are independent again, I'll be back with Euphie."

"I hope you two are happy together," she said honestly. She then moved her hands to the back of his head, and pulled it down until she was level with his ear, "And then maybe we can all have some fun together, if she's up for it," she teased lightly. Lelouch blushed slightly, and then chuckled.

"Maybe," he offered. He hugged her tighter, and came face-to-face with her. "I'm gonna miss you, Milly."

"I'll miss you too, Lelouch," she replied, leaning in and planting her lips softly on his. He returned the kiss, and then, slowly and reluctantly, slipped away. He stood up and they stared into each other's eyes for a long while, and the full effect of him finally hit her.

He stood tall before her in full combat regalia – jacket, fatigues, vest, boots and beret – and it truly struck her; he was going to war, and he might not come back.

"Don't die on me, Lelouch," she whispered. He kneeled before her, and replied evenly, looking straight into her eyes.

"I'd never even think it." He wiped away a stray tear from her eye with his thumb, and tilted her chin up to meet him for one final kiss, before slipping away to the door. He cast one last look back.

"Nunnally will be safe with me, Lelouch," she reassured. He nodded and smiled one last time, and stepped out of the room. As the door slid shut, he was finally gone.

She stretched out on the couch, and grasping a pillow, softly cried away the remnants of her sorrows.

Outside the door, he was perched back against the wall, drifting off. Once the crying finally faded, he took a deep breath to compose himself, and stood tall and true, donning the beret with the stylized silver vulture glinting in the light.

Determination in his sharp amethyst eyes, Lelouch Lamperouge started off at a steady military gait, confidence in his every step. However, he paused at a private bedroom further down the hall. Slipping back against the door, it slid open quietly, and he glanced in at its lone occupant.

A girl of thirteen with flowing brown hair lay tucked in the bed, her eyes shut, breathing softly. He smiled, and blinked away a stray tear.

"Goodbye… Nunnally." As the door shut, he heard a ghost of a reply.

"Be safe… Brother."

Lelouch strode straight out of the doors into broad daylight and across the school grounds, where students were being dismissed for lunch. Everyone stopped and stared in awe as a boy of their age, maybe a year older, walked through their midst, decked out in military uniform and departing for war within this very country. Most of the Britannian students scowled, while a few of the more oblivious girls swooned, but a small portion offered nods of respect. On his way, he passed Kallen.

"I thought you would've disappeared long ago, Miss Kozuki," Lelouch called behind him to the redhead. "Your face is, after all, pasted across national television in association with wanted militants."

Kallen turned to see who was addressing her, and faltered at the sight. "I-I was just… saying a few goodbyes…" she stuttered solemnly. He nodded in understanding, and resumed his walk to the central drive, where a Blackhawk helicopter idled, surrounded by armed BPG mercenaries.

"Good luck then, Kallen Kozuki… I look forward to fighting alongside you." Offering a small nod back, he descended the steps and then jogged the rest of the distance to the helicopter. "Alright, let's get going," he ordered quietly. The men boarded the chopper after him, and the matte black aircraft lifted off, kicking up dust from the avenue.

In his seat, Lelouch gave a final sigh before his posture straightened, and his eyes hardened indefinitely. "Well, there was the love… Now, it's time for the war."

* * *

><p><strong>Same time<br>Government Bureau**

"Euphie… What was that about?" Cornelia asked softly as she took a seat on the edge of her bed, looking at her sister expectantly.

"Well, sister, I…" Euphemia started off nervously, trying to decide the best way to lay it out. Taking a deep breath, she decided on her approach, and spoke resolutely. "While you were out at the first Narita operation, Lelouch and I had a meeting in regards to a request by the BPG for Britannia to cede political control of Hokkaido to them; he played a family-sympathy approach, saying that his father's operations in Germany were being displaced by the Britannian advance, and that Hokkaido would be a sufficient setback point. I guess I really wasn't thinking of the military implications in the statement, because… all I really felt at that point was sympathy for his family."

"For the week afterwards, we met up fairly regularly; we pretty much spent the week together, all things considered. He told me about his family and how his mother, a Britannian had been killed here, in a bombing raid on the civilian-occupied city during the invasion…" Cornelia winced at the mention, "And that his younger sister, Nunnally, had been crippled and blinded in the same attack. Their father was devastated, and returned to his home in Germany to sink himself into work for his PMC, leaving them in the hands of the Ashfords, friends of their mother. He's grown up nursing a hatred for Britannia, sister… And I didn't begrudge him anything." Euphie sighed heavily and flopped down on the other side of the bed.

"We… We grew closer, hour by hour, day by day, and then yesterday… He spent the night, and… We made love." Cornelia's eyes widened substantially, and Euphemia quickly added, "We used protection!" At her elder sister's relieved sigh, she continued. "And early in the morning, when he was gearing up to leave and meet his father, he… He told me, that he really wished that we could be together. After that, he just left; I didn't hear from him until that communication."

Cornelia took a deep breath and massaged her temples. "Oh boy, you sure picked a troublesome one here, Euphie," she said tiredly. But then, she straightened up and looked Euphemia straight in the eye. "Euphie… Do you truly love him?"

The girl nodded without hesitation. "With all my heart," she replied resolutely.

"Then… You have my blessing." The younger sister's eyes grew two sizes, and she managed to launch into a flying glomp from her lying position.

"THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU!" Euphie cried euphorically. "It means _sooo_ much, Sister!"

"… But if he breaks your heart, I'm hunting him to the ends of the earth and castrating him before executing him," Cornelia amended sternly.

* * *

><p><strong>1400 hours<br>Aircraft Carrier JDS **_**Ise**_**, with Chinese flotilla**

The JDS _Ise_, formerly classified as a helicopter carrier-destroyer, had been completely overhauled in its hidden berthing in Kamchatka. The ship had been expanded, inside and out, and had its armaments updated substantially. Now, the officially-classified aircraft carrier had the capacity for a compliment of fifty fixed-wing aircraft and helicopters. Its sister ship, the _Hyuga_, had been refitted similarly, and was currently anchored beside it.

A small convoy of landing craft streamed towards the flotilla of mixed Chinese and Japanese naval vessels, transferring troops over to the dedicated troopships and destroyers.

One of the craft pulled alongside the _Ise_, and the crew on the deck above dropped a cargo net down. Up the net came General Katase and his staff, as well as a large portion of the command center security detail.

"General!" the ship's captain greeted with a sharp salute. Katase returned it lazily, and made his way up to the bridge, where a screen was replaying the BPG's declaration of war.

"Damn, that kid's got some balls…" one of the crewmen muttered. Katase grunted in agreement. The teenage commander of a small, yet highly-skilled PMC had just declared war on arguably the world's strongest military power.

The general turned to the ship's intelligence officer. "So I assume that he wasn't bluffing when he said that we took Kyoto?"

"No, sir. Some of our ships rounded back along the western coast and landed troops in the prefecture; the city was under our control within two hours."

"Either he's well-informed, or he got lucky on a bluff." Shaking off the thought, Katase accepted a large sheaf of reports, which detailed their current military strength. "So are we ready for open war with Britannia?"

"If the Navy is capable of holding off Britannian reinforcements, then we should have no problems with seizing the country by Christmas."

"Good, good… And are the commanders up to the task?"

"They're ready to "kick some asses back to California," sir."

"That's the spirit. Well… I guess it's game on; let the fireworks commence."

**End Act II**

* * *

><p><strong>Have I said that I'm proud of this before? Cause I am DAMN proud of this thing now. <strong>

**There's gonna be an interlude detailing the first month of fighting, as well as checking in with the characters, before we move on to Act III – the war for Kanto Block. Until next time, then!**

**News Update – Open War in Area 11**

_On the morning of September 29__th__, 2017 ATB, following the overall stalemate at Narita, the Japan Liberation Front, now rechristening themselves as the Japan Self-Defense force, alongside the Black Panzer Group, have declared open war on Britannian military forces within Area 11. _

_Several dozen terrorists cells have rallied to the call to arms by the BPG, and Kyushu and Hokkaido are now firmly within enemy hands, as well as the ancient capital of Kyoto. The latter has become a major focal point of the terrorist morale – Elevens flock from the cities to join up with any one of these factions, and uprisings have started in cities across the country._

_By the 1__st__ of October, the Southern Chubu Region was almost entirely seized by the JSDF, along with Osaka, Hyogo, and Wakayama. _

_Several Britannian military units defected in the northern Tohoku region, leaving it majorly in the hands of the Black Panzer Group._

_And finally, the prefectures of Toyama and Nagano, both containing substantial portions of the JSDF home base in the Hida Mountains, were seized early today, October 2__nd__, 2017._

_Reinforcements are reported to be arriving within the week from the homeland, but with the heavy terrorist air and naval superiority, analysts refer to the chances of success as "unlikely at the very best". They also report that enemy forces should indeed be marching on Tokyo by Christmas, at the current status of Britannian armed forces in the area._

_This has been Adrianna Livingston with the BBC, Area 11._


	9. Act 2 Intermission

**A/N: This is a sort of interlude between Acts II and III, the latter of which will start out in the second month of combat. This is basically just a little overview of the situation, as well as checking up on a few of the characters. Enjoy!**

**Interlude – **_**"Let the bodies hit the floor…"**_

* * *

><p><strong>October 15<strong>**th****, 2017 ATB  
>0730 hours<br>Niigata Prefecture**

"_**PRESS, PRESS, PRESS! LEAVE NONE ALIVE!"**_

Currently, on this chilly October morning, the forces of the Black Panzer Group, bolstered substantially by civilian conscripts, pressed their offensive on the prefectural capital of Niigata. Light snow fell as black-clad soldiers marched on into the city, only to be scattered as fire rained down from the Britannian defenders.

Lelouch peeked out from his cover behind a newsstand, swinging his G-36A2 to bear and cutting down a Britannian soldier in the open. He quickly ducked back as the man's comrades returned fire, and he mused idly on the snow. _'There shouldn't be snow here in October…'_

In truth, since the pressure for abolishment of fossil fuels appeared in the seventies, the global climate had begun to change for the better. The seasons came and went in earnest, and hit twice as hard as before.

Now, it proved to have its pros and cons. On one hand, it allowed the BPG to effectively utilize its outstanding winter warfare tactics; on the other, it was beginning to mildly affect their advance from adverse weather conditions and occasional whiteouts.

An explosion brought the young man back to his senses, and he looked up to see a BPG Type 10 MBT rolling down the road, blasting away at the Britannian barricade. A Humvee went up in flames as the defenders were finally displaced, and civilian construction equipment rolled in to push the concrete footers and wrecked vehicles out of the path of the advancing troops. Fast attack units mounted on custom dirt bikes and in pickup trucks ripped into the city, strafing the entrenched Britannian Army units with reckless abandon. Deeper into town, another series of explosions rang out, as an appropriated BPG _Hayabusa_-class patrol boat finally broke through a hail of fire from the bridges, and entered the Shinano River.

Lelouch reached over and tapped one of his officers on the shoulder. "How exactly did we get our hands on Sri Lankan fast attack boats?" he asked, gesturing to the _Super Devora Mk-III _fast attack craft ripping up the river. The man shrugged.

"We know people." He then tossed a frag over the roof of the newsstand and dashed over to take cover behind the advancing tank.

A 2015 Toyota Tacoma crew cab pickup zoomed up the wide road, swinging around the tank and powersliding to a stop behind Lelouch. "Commander!" Shi called out from the driver's seat, "Our advance units have reached the Bandai Bridge – we're offloading reinforcements from the river as we speak."

"Excellent," Lelouch replied. He then vaulted into the bed of the truck and mounted the PKM 12.7mm machine gun. "Let's go!"

"Hold on tight!" Shi called back, slamming the gas and burning out for a few seconds before starting off.

The FAV swerved wildly through the streets, Lelouch keeping his feet planted to the bed and firing at anything in a Britannian uniform. By the time they reached the bridge, Shi would've received a sentence of anywhere from 10 to life for excessive speeding, reckless endangerment, property damage, and thirteen accounts of hit-and-run/vehicular homicide. Lelouch had an additional fifty-two kills to his credit.

"How many troops were reported in this city's garrison?" Lelouch asked as he jumped down.

"I believe that original numbers indicated at least three battalions of six hundred apiece," Shi replied, shakily jumping out of the cab and looking to the truck's other occupants. "Come on out, you fucking sissies! It's just a little joyride through a warzone!"

"I'm never riding with you again, man…" a Britannian BPG lieutenant quivered from the passenger's seat. Two more Russian NCOs nodded in agreement from the back seats.

"Oh for Christ's sake… Shake it off and get out here, we have jobs to do!" The pair walked off towards the middle of the bridge, where a net had been lowered down to a line of landing craft, with infantrymen hustling up and over.

"What's the situation, Major?" Lelouch addressed the overseer of the landings. The German man offered a salute.

"Sir, we've taken the entire eastern half of the city; several companies are also infiltrating the west side through the rail line," he reported. "Our field commanders estimate another three hours before the city is completely ours, unless the Britannian remnants wise up and surrender before then." The men within earshot scoffed loudly in unison. "And as you can see… general consensus is three hours."

"Right…" Lelouch nodded. "Do we have air support?"

"Dmitri and Luch Squadron are flying top-cover of the prefecture; Voskod Squadron is strafing the front lines between Fukushima and Tochigi. Other than that, we have a few 500s and Blackhawks pulling run-'n-gun duty."

"Get a 500 down here; I need an overview of the situation," Lelouch ordered. Mere moments later, an MD-500 Defender light assault chopper touched down on the bridge, offloading an officer. "Never mind. I'll be back in thirty; I need to check in with the naval detachment as well." He ducked over to the chopper, jumping into the copilot's seat and ordering the pilot up, pulling on the headset.

As they went up, Lelouch patted himself down to make sure everything was there; he pulled out his wallet, and faltered when he spotted the photos; three, to be precise.

The first was of himself crouched beside Nunnally, with Tyler standing behind them, a hand on each of their heads; they all smiled lightly. The picture was from two years ago, before he had left on his training sabbatical in Korea.

The second was himself with Milly, during Ashford's prom night; Lelouch was decked out in a black suit and a white dress shirt with a deep purple tie, while Milly stood in a figure-hugging aquamarine, full-length dress with white gloves and a white lily in her hair. His arms were wrapped around her waist, and she leaned back into his embrace. Again, both wore dazzling smiles.

The third was on his and Euphemia's first actual date, which had been dinner at Café de l'Allemagne. He was dressed in his version of semi-formal, a white suit coat and dress pants along with a purple shirt and dress shoes. She wore a simple purest white evening gown and one-inch heels, her bright pink hair down and flowing in cascading waves. This time, his arm was snaked around her waist, and she and Lelouch stood side-by-side with Tokyo Bay in the background, lit up by a brilliant fireworks display.

He was broken from his reverie by a flash from the ground, and Lelouch looked down in time to see a skyscraper on the west side crumble into dust; he was still in a warzone.

Reluctantly, he folded the photos back up and replaced his wallet, staring down into the streets as more bikes swerved through, raising general hell.

"_Two _girls, sir?" the pilot's voice crackled amusedly over the headset, "I didn't think you rolled like that." Lelouch glanced over, and finally noted that the pilot was definitely Britannian, or at least predominately so; no German, Russian or Korean would've made the comment. Then again, it was a friendly and helpful gesture.

"Broke up with one for the other a few weeks back," he replied evenly. "Would've kept 'em both if I could've, though; they're both wonderful."

"I know how ya feel, sir," the pilot sighed nostalgically. "Anyways, we've gone over as far as I can without running into their Triple-A batteries; you wanna turn back to the bridge, or out to the destroyer?"

"Let's drop by the destroyer and check on the situation from an offshore perspective."

* * *

><p><strong>1200 hours<br>Government Bureau, Tokyo**

Cornelia grew more and more frustrated as she read through the reports of her commanders; precisely an hour and a half ago, Niigata Prefecture had essentially fallen to the _Schwarz Panzergruppe_ as a force of ten thousand mixed mercenaries and conscripts steamrolled over the Britannian defenses in the prefectural capital with superior equipment and support. At the same time, the defenders of the South Fukushima Line slowly withdrew into Tochigi, as the same faction bombarded them and applied very subtle pressure with tanks and EU Panzer-Hummel Knightmares.

On the opposite end of the country, everything south and west of Kyoto had finally fallen to the Japan Self-Defense Forces. The last of the displaced defenders in Nara had surrendered after a three-day siege of the capital, and the Japanese troops were already raring to press into Mie. The rest of the western seaboard, i.e. Fukui and Ishikawa had also been captured, creating a direct overland link between the JSDF frontline and their distant home base.

Reinforcements had been dispatched from Pearl Harbor and San Diego a week ago… But then the all-out naval warfare had begun. It had started with submarine strikes against the head of the large convoy; the entire procession had unwisely stopped to regroup and recover the crewmen of the scuttled vessels.

Shortly after, fighter aircraft had struck the taskforce. The pilots had seemed to dance straight through their air defenses, dodging every missile, every bullet – by the time they pulled out, three destroyers, two cruisers, and one aircraft carrier (now affectionately referred to as 'bomb magnets') had been sunk, to the loss of a mere two Japanese fighter-bombers.

As the battered remains steamed towards Tokyo Bay, they finally encountered the real iron-clad defense, in the form of a horde of missile cruisers and 'destroyers', since apparently the Maritime Defense Force had chosen to just slap the title onto anything, even when some of the ships could've qualified as battleships. The first real case of ship-to-ship warfare since the First Pacific War had followed, but the superior range of Japanese warships had allowed them to wipe out the Britannian fleet in an instant.

Following that incident, further convoys had been rerouted to Okinawa, which had become the largest singular concentration of Britannian naval warships in the world. However, enemy long-range bombers, as well as the indigenous peoples of the island, had been slowly scraping away at their numbers and overall morale. Area 11 had become synonymous with the military's Hell on Earth, even more so than the French with their crisis in Vietnam in the '60s. A large part of the middle and lower class population of mainland Britannia had called for a military withdrawal from Area 11, while the nobility called for the insertion of more troops, as well as the outright purging of the area; this difference of opinion had sparked a long series of protests and riots on the mainland, which grew larger and more violent with each passing day.

Emperor Charles zi Britannia, growing older and more distant from the affairs of his empire, carelessly catered to the nobility by dispatching the entire XIII Army Corps to Japan. Of course, that was assuming that they would even touch the shore. At this point, the members of the army who had seen the untenable situation in Japan were already protesting, and plotting. Cornelia knew of at least three generals who would undoubtedly be at the forefront, should a military coup d'etat occur; hell, she herself would probably join in if the opportunity arose.

Yes, Cornelia li Britannia, in essence the supreme commander of the Britannian armed forces, no longer gave two shits about retaking Japan. Anyone with half a brain could see that is physically impossible to hold a country of over a hundred million people who HATE YOUR FUCKING GUTS, and feel that they do not need to serve you any longer, when they could easily rise up all at once and kick your ass right back into the sea. Thank God that Genbu Kururugi had committed suicide before declaring an all-out resistance, or else Japan probably never would've been taken in the first place.

However, for the sake of public appearances (up until the point that either Britannia loses Japan altogether, or somebody stages a coup); she had to make it appear that she was actually _trying _to defend the nation. In actuality, she was slowly drawing inwards to Tokyo, and when the final battle came, she would withdraw out to see and eventually retreat to the homeland. What came after that…? Well, it was anyone's guess.

At the moment, any ignorant outsiders would've thought that she was mulling over her next course of action in retaliation; in actuality, however, her mind lay with her brother, Schneizel el Britannia, halfway across the world on the European Front, which was deteriorating just as rapidly as Japan.

Apparently, the BPG's address had been taken by the world as a call to arms against oppression; the citizens of the EU within captured territories were slowly revolting, and even a large portion of the Chinese Federation was taking up arms against the imperialistic Eunuch Council.

In the EU, right now, the BPG's main branch, alongside the Germanic State Military, had driven Britannia out of Germany. Not Poland or anyone around them, mind you – just out of Germany. However, the ever-resilient Polish were quickly remedying said situation, with support from the Army of the Russian Federation, a major supporter of the BPG.

Scandinavia had been a lost cause from the start; the Norwegians, Swedes and Finns were just too damn crafty, stubborn, and plain crazy.

Africa had fallen with little incident; the only real defenses had been the poorly-trained and equipped North Africa League, with minor support from the EU once Britannia was approaching Egypt and the Suez Canal. However, the locals were now starting to harass Britannian occupation forces with guerilla attacks, led by the moderately-trained Sand Hog of Somalia, the guardsmen of Mogadishu's warlords. It was a tedious procedure, but the "Cradle of Civilization" was slowly slipping from Britannia's grasp.

The Middle Eastern Federation… Well, the MEF had always been a madhouse, what with the centers of several major world religions centered in one coalition. It had never truly been under Britannian control in the first place; like Japan, the people of the MEF simply refused to lie down and be subservient. Suicide bombings, guerilla raids, the occasional city-wide revolt; rumor had it that Al-Qaeda had even been dissolved and absorbed into the resurrected Mujahedeen.

Overall, Britannia's efforts towards world dominion were rapidly unraveling. And honestly, half of the empire didn't give a damn anymore.

"Darlton!" Cornelia called out, prompting the general to step into the office.

"Yes, Your Highness?"

"Where's Guilford?"

"He went out with a Red Cross team to Fukushima, to recover the dead from the BPG." Cornelia sighed. Ever since he had been wounded at Narita, Guilford had been acting so much more… hands-on, in regards to combat. Every chance he got, he went out with the infantry or the medics to the nearest available engagement; the officers were beginning to think that the knight had a death wish. However, every single time, he had returned with a fresh wound, trudging along with the survivors, a victorious grin etched into his features. When asked why he was grinning, Guilford would simply reply, "We're alive."

All in all, he was a lost cause. Whatever happened up on that mountain, he had changed… And he had fallen away from Cornelia. He was now the most beloved commander in the entire Britannian Army, because everyone knew him, he knew everyone, and he fought alongside everyone. He lived with the troops; he ate with them, drank with them, and killed with them. He didn't need big, meaningless speeches before and after they fought and died; he gave his encouraging words straight to each man, with variation tailored to each of them.

In essence, he was the commander that Cornelia herself couldn't be. She had been heartbroken when he had walked into the office three days ago and gave her his spoken resignation, verbatim, and had stayed and taken the personal approach as she shouted and cried and threw things at him; he bore it in stride, and when she reflected, the princess felt no ill-will towards him. He had found his niche; she was happy for him.

After the Second Battle at Narita, sixty-seven Victoria Crosses were awarded for valor; eight had gone to a deceased team of Britannian Rangers, who had destroyed the Japanese artillery base at Yukikura, and semi-knowingly saved the Viceroy's life in the process; and against all protest, she had awarded one to the bravest man of the bunch, an Eleven named Ken Moritake.

She was snapped from her reverie as Darlton spoke. "Viceroy-General… What are we going to do here?" She knew exactly what he was referring to.

"We make it look like we're fighting for every inch, when in reality; we're conserving the lives that can be saved and slowly preparing to retreat. We can't subjugate an entire nation of rebels without resorting to genocide and plainly inhumane methods, Andreas; all we can do now is put on our war faces and then turn around and run back home, where if it hasn't been done already, I'll kill my father myself if need be."

The general was taken aback by her words; she had implied treason on a daily basis, but this was the first time that she had come out and said it. "… So then I take it you've been in contact with the enemy commanders?"

Cornelia nodded solemnly. "Have you taken a look at the garrison that was at Niigata when it was wiped out?" Darlton thought back to the list – the entirety of all three battalions was composed of blue-blooded brats and warmongers.

"I see what you did there."

"Exactly. We're weeding the garden and throwing them to the mower, while the rest of us clump together and make ready to be transplanted to better soil."

"So how many more do we have to go through?"

"All that's left is Gifu and Aichi; after those two have been obliterated, we make a show of withdrawing to Tokyo and bulking up our defenses, while we're prepping an escape fleet in the shadows."

"So _that's_ why the JASDF are sparing the empty ships," Darlton muttered.

"Right. Unfortunately though, at least a small portion of those ships at Okinawa are going to break through eventually, and a number of them are from the command of Schneizel himself. When they do, we'll have to put up one last big fight, and go through a few good men before we can run on home to our families."

"Prince Schneizel is coming here in person?"

"He'll sure as hell try."

* * *

><p><strong>Same time<br>Pearl Harbor**

In the fading light of the Hawaiian Islands, Navy men scrambled about a giant airship, roughly the size of an aircraft carrier, possibly larger. On the top external observation deck of said ship sat a man with mid-length blond hair, eyes bordering between glassy sky blue and light violet, and dressed in immaculate white robes, trimmed with gold and black. Next to him stood a rather effeminate young man with violet hair and light blue eyes, dressed in an attendant's uniform.

"Tell me Kanon, what is your assessment of the situation in Japan?" the blond man asked his comrade, the attendant, Kanon.

"Quite frankly sire, it's completely untenable," Kanon replied softly. "The Japanese simply cannot be subjugated completely; their individual wills are too strong, if we look back to the days of the _Samurai_."

"Indeed," the blond man sighed. "I suppose we're simply traveling there because it is father's will, and we must obey… For the time being, anyways. I imagine Cornelia will undoubtedly attempt something if no one else does by the time she returns to the homeland."

"Why not do it yourself, sire?" Kanon inquired. "You're in a better position with His Majesty at the moment, as one of his closest political advisors; it could be anything from a full military coup to an individual assassination."

"Ah, so true," he replied airily. "However, now is not the proper time; seizing power and attempting to make peace with the rest of the world would only serve to stir up the nobility, and make us appear weak; therefore, we must have people in the right places before we make our move. Japan, of course, would be a start; the Germans could also serve to satisfy, if that young fellow with the BPG is any indication."

"Isn't Euphemia involved with that boy?" Kanon tossed in helpfully. This man had spies in several circles, and in others, all he needed was a man who was willing to talk; keeping tabs on the affairs within Area 11 was a relatively simple task nowadays.

"Hmm… I suppose she is, isn't she?" the man pondered carefully. "This could serve to satisfy both powers in one fell swoop, if the Japanese allow the BPG to maintain a position within their country." It also helped that this boy, Lelouch, was a talented assassin, apparently with a vendetta against the current Emperor; he could be put to use politically and militarily. "I'll have to contact this boy once we arrive in Okinawa; arrangements must be made…" He shelved the thought as a technician jogged onto the deck.

"Prince Schneizel, we're ready to depart at your word."

"Excellent; we shall leave immediately," Scheizel replied.

"Very well, Your Highness." The man bowed and departed, leaving the original pair watching the sun set over the horizon in this tropical paradise.

"Your Highness…" Kanon spoke up unsurely.

"Yes, Kanon?"

"… What exactly is your stance in this?"

"That's a very good question, my friend," Schneizel sighed tiredly. "I suppose I supported father's campaign because I thought that uniting the world under a single banner would serve to bring peace; and after it occurred, I would've dethroned him in an instant." The prince slumped in his seat, casually resting one leg atop the other, and appearing more the twenty-five year old man that he really was, "However, after watching the events in Japan and the EU… I suppose that there is very little possibility of having every single man, woman, and child in the world fall into line seamlessly. So now, I'd be content with seeing this upheaval end, and simply stepping down from the line of succession and living the rest of my life in content seclusion, with perhaps a few like-minded individuals for company."

Kanon nodded in understanding.

"And Kanon?"

"Hm?"

"Go down to the mess and retrieve a bottle of Scotch and a pizza or two, I need to unwind." The attendant chuckled amusedly; for a prince, Schneizel el Britannia certainly had very simple tastes. A drink, some good simple food, and a good read could keep the man content for days.

* * *

><p><strong>1400 hours, Tokyo Standard Time<br>Japan Self-Defense Force Area Command, Kyoto**

"I _hate _paperwork," Ishitora groaned at his desk, face-planting into the eight-inch high pile of paper in front of him.

"With giant promotions come massive stacks of paperwork," Takao offered from the lounge chair against the wall to his left, cleaning his nails with a KA-BAR – the same one he had stolen from (and quickly used to kill) Ian Mendoza at Narita.

"I get that, but WHY did Katase have to promote me?" the freshly-promoted Major General Ishitora Misato whined pathetically. "He wouldn't even let me keep my lighter to "accidently" burn this pile of crap…"

"And that's exactly why," the also-promoted Captain Takao Yamashiro deadpanned, gesturing with his knife. "Nobody is going to even leave you _alone_ to do paperwork, let along leave you with a lighter. Why the hell do you think _I'm_ stuck in here instead of out on the front at Gifu?"

"Because you apparently have a berserker switch that's triggered by hard rock," Ishitora replied scathingly. Takao twitched; this fact had been a fairly sore spot for him, and the general knew this full well, after he had jokingly turned on _Warrior_ by Disturbed, and been very nearly decapitated as the captain had thrown his wakizashi across the room at him.

"Give it a rest, unless you want me to aim an inch to the left next time," Takao growled in irritation. "Just quit your bitching and finish the fucking paperwork so that we can both get the hell out of here."

"Ooh, touchy."

"I carry seven spare knives on me at all times, _General_."

"… Right, let's see what all this is about, now…"

* * *

><p><strong>1700 hours<br>Ashford Academy**

"Can somebody tell me HOW WE GOT A KNIGHTMARE FRAME TO MAKE A GIANT PIZZA?" Rivalz shouted in amazement as he stared at the monstrous pizza on the platform.

Milly finished her walk-around of it and shrugged. "We know people, who know people, who knew deceased people, who owned Knightmare Frames." Well technically, she knew Lelouch, whose mother left her 3rd Generation Ganymede in the hands of the Ashfords; Lelouch had agreed to let her use the Ganymede on account of Marianne's notorious sense of humor. When Tyler had heard about it, he had cracked up and laughed for two minutes straight before agreeing with his son's assessment.

"But who _piloted_ the damned thing?"

"Euphie," Milly pointed off-handedly to the pink-haired girl. Since damn near no one even knew the name Euphemia li Britannia, since it had been pretty much disregarded by everyone during Lelouch's address, the girl had decided to attend Ashford for a while, as a change of pace.

Although it _was_ a bit awkward when they talked about their relationships with Lelouch… But Milly had nearly managed to swing the idea of a threesome with the pinkette.

Back to the present, Euphie had received a bit of Knightmare training from Cornelia (naturally, being the sister of the general who _most_ promoted Knightmare Frames for combat would pay off _somehow_), and therefore had been able to pilot the Ganymede well enough to make the pizza. Thankfully, they had made Lelouch run the numbers and prep work during his off-hours, so the platform hadn't collapsed like it had while he was off in Korea.

Rivalz stared in amazement as the girl stepped down from the Knightmare's cockpit and onto the edge of the stage, admiring her handiwork.

"Did I do well?" Euphie asked innocently, as though she _hadn't_ just piloted a seven-ton humanoid mecha to make a pizza that was twenty feet in diameter.

"You did great, sweetie!" Milly cheered, dashing over and capturing the girl in an overly-friendly hug. The pair separated when Rivalz passed out from blood loss, and they realized that the side view had given the poor/lucky boy a perfect shot of their ample… assets… pressed together. "Never woulda thought that the boy had it in him…" Milly muttered in disappointment.

"He's a warm-blooded male, Milly," Euphemia sighed in his defense. "Even Lelouch would've had a hard time sitting still from that."

"Bah! Lulu's a man with a will of steel, he could've kept it in check!" the Ashford girl protested.

"He was hard as steel by the time I was down to my underwear…" Euphie muttered unabashedly.

Milly shot the girl an odd look. "You've… Slept with him?" she asked, this being news to her. Lelouch had implied some rather steamy actions, but he had never come outright and said that they did the deed.

"Yep."

"… How was he?"

"Let's talk about this somewhere more private," the pinkette princess facepalmed, moving towards the clubhouse.

"Oooh, where no one will hear me scream as you show me?"

"Whatever you want to think, Milly…"

As one could see, life was normal at Ashford. However, both girls' hearts still ached at the thought of Lelouch out on the field of battle, with no guarantee of return.

'_Be safe, Lulu…'_

* * *

><p><strong>1800 hours<br>Kanagawa Ghetto, south of Tokyo**

The Britannia guards on the outskirts of Kanagawa Ghetto barely had time to blink as a pair of .338 Lapua Magnum sniper rifle bullets passed through each of their heads, and they crumpled quietly to the pavement. A few moments later, a convoy of six semis and several more military 2.5 ton trucks passed straight through the chain link fence, with the snipers lying prone on the roofs of the first two trucks.

Naoto Kozuki grunted as his truck passed over a small crater, jostling himself and the twenty men in the back, along with numerous crates of equipment. The group had spent the last month hiding out in the Yamaguchi Prefecture, training and stockpiling captured equipment. Now, their resistance was three hundred strong, well-trained and armed to the teeth.

"_Man, Naoto, why the hell did we have to come back to _this_ dump?"_ Tamaki's whiny voice crackled over the radio.

"I told you the plan already, Tamaki, and I'm not repeating it over the airwaves now that we're back in Tokyo…" the redheaded insurgent sighed, running a hand over his face in exasperation.

"_Seriously Tamaki, quit your bitching for ten damned minutes until we get to the warehouse," _Kento mirrored his sentiments.

"_Man, I get no respect from you guys…"_ one could almost _hear_ the pouting in Tamaki's tone.

"_When you give us something to respect, then we might consider it,"_ Inoue barked; ouch, that one had to hurt.

"…" At the extended silence, the others grew worried.

"… _Tamaki? Listen, I didn't mean it like that…"_

"_Oh, I know EXACTLY what you meant,"_ he laughed back scathingly, eliciting a choreographed flinch from his friends. _"I'm just the screw-up that's most likely to get killed, but for some reason I always come back, while all the GOOD people die instead…"_

"TAMAKI!" Naoto shouted. "Don't talk like that, man! We haven't seen a legit engagement since the last raid on RBA Tokyo, and you excelled in training ahead of a few of the rest of us. Every last person here is just as valued as the others, so don't even start spouting that bullshit!"

This time the silence was guilty. _"Right, sorry Naoto… I just feel completely useless; all I ever do is end up losing equipment…" _

"Somebody always loses equipment in combat; that's not something to be guilty of, that's something to be _thankful _for, since you can outlast your machines and live to tell the tale later on. Remember, equipment is expendable; people aren't, our _friends_ aren't."

"_Right… Thanks, man. That means a lot."_

"Don't worry about it. Just focus on the tasks at hand and perform to the best of your abilities." As they finally finished talking, the convoy pulled up to a series of partially-buried warehouses and apartment buildings; although on the outside they appeared to be completely dilapidated and uninhabitable, the insides were in… slightly better condition. One of the garage doors slid open, and Kallen and Ohgi waved them in. Machine gunners and snipers in the buildings above provided overwatch as the trucks entered the expanded facility, already slightly outfitted to their upcoming operations.

Oh yes, the Britannian Army was in for a real treat…

* * *

><p><strong>2400 hours, Britannian Western Standard Time (BWST)<br>Imperial Throne Room Pendragon, Area Zero (Britannia)**

Over a hundred nobles were assembled in the gilded chambers of the Emperor's Throne Room, waiting anxiously for His Majesty to arrive. Guards stood at every corner of the room and every exit, while technicians went through the entire area, searching every nook, cranny and guest in the room for bugs or explosives.

Within minutes, the Royal Guard streamed into the room and formed a wide corridor down the aisle towards the throne. Into the room entered a notably imposing man of over six feet with a powerful build. He was outfitted in blue and white finery and a blue cloak trimmed with gold, bearing the Britannian Royal Crest across it. He wore a colonial-style white powdered wig, and had piercing amethyst eyes, along with a short white beard lining the bottom of his face.

This man was (for the moment) the undeniably most powerful man in the Holy Empire of Britannia – its leader, Emperor Charles zi Britannia.

His expression betrayed no emotion other than a stony and cold calculation of everything he gazed upon, and walked heavily up to his throne, where he unceremoniously settled in and faced the audience. The massive ornate doors into the chamber were sealed by the guards, and lined on either side for the duration of the assembly.

"Greetings, my subjects. You are gathered here today… Because you are the finest, purest, and most loyal of the nobility of Britannia. What I am about to speak of today, is to NEVER be spoken of again outside of this room, under the threat of capital punishment – removal of your titles and status, and the disinheritance of your families among the upper society of Britannia." Any thoughts of plotting and scheming with close allies after the meeting were ruthlessly slaughtered; it just wasn't worth the risk, even for their own safety.

"Now… As you have undoubtedly heard, the world has declared Britannia a unanimous enemy, and are fighting against us on a united front. The worms which we once trampled underfoot are rising up and loosening the soil, luring us into pitfalls and ensnaring us, burying us and mercilessly starving us until we capitulate. And unfortunately, our servicemen have no choice but to retreat, lest any further rash actions serve to bring greater fury upon us."

"Britannia… Will not survive this storm." The assembly gasped at the Emperor's admission. "I realize this, because we are a mere tenth of the world population, and the rest of the world has united against us – ten to one on such a scale is simply not survivable, when we are surrounded on all sides. Outmanned, outmatched, and outgunned. Our enemies are draining us of our lifeblood – the current Sakuradite crisis has forced development of Knightmares to a grinding halt. In addition, they have proved on several occasions that enough conventional firepower, coupled with experience and skill, can easily overcome this technology. We can no longer rely on our former trump card, the Humanoid Autonomous Armored Knight, simply because if anyone can shoot straight enough with large enough weapons, they can execute us with relative ease."

"On the home front… I fear that the lower classes will soon be in open rebellion against us." Another gasp came, though more hollow than the first, since it was kind of expected to happen already. "Once we lose our ground overseas, the Britannian people will surely turn in on us, the wealthy, educated, and purebred."

"When this occurs… I am proposing a contingency plan. You will have to sacrifice the majority of, if not _all_ of your current worldly possessions in the process; however, your sacrifices will be for the good of a Pure Britannia."

"However, before I speak to you of this plan, I must know who among you is _truly_ willing to give it all for the purity of your country. If you are not willing to turn away from _everything_ you hold dear, your creature comforts, your loved ones, for the good of your country, then I ask you to leave… _Now._"

There was absolute stillness following this announcement. None dared so much as twitch to do anything other than scan their peers for signs of submission, of cowardice – of potential _treason_ against their Holy Empire.

"Know that if you do remain behind during this plan, this _exodus_, your most likely fate still remains death. The commoners and invaders will string you up for your support of this regime; your families, your friends, even your most distant associates will be hunted and herded like lambs to the slaughter. By following us… You are not only saving your country, but you are _sparing_ those who you leave behind."

This was the clincher. For five of the longest minutes in Britannian history, none dared to take a single step away – however, whether it was out of true dedication, or the primal instinct of fear, is to this day unknown.

"Excellent. You, my people, are the future of the true Britannia – remember this as you take your steps into the unknown. Now…"

* * *

><p><strong>October 16<strong>**th****, 1400 hours (GST)  
>EU Central Hemicycle, Nuremburg, State of Germany<strong>

The BPG had expelled the Britannian Army from Nuremburg mere days ago, and it was already once more the political center of the EU. Unfortunately (although this phrase could be argued by state representatives), the President had been taken and publically executed hours after the original fall of the city. Therefore, by popular vote in the assembly (and out of respect), the representative of Germany had been selected as the new spokesman of the European Union, until a new president could be properly elected.

Now, this man, Wilhelm Walther, sat in the Presidential Office, waiting for his final cue to step out onto the balcony and address the nation.

Behind him, his elder Tyler sat calmly on the edge of the desk, trying his damnedest to get the man to _calm to fuck down_.

"For God's sake, Wilhelm, you're going to wear a hole in the carpet if you keep up that damned pacing!" Tyler growled in frustration, hopping up and grasping his brother's shoulders, steering him over to a seat by the door.

"I can't help it, dammit! How would _you _feel if you had to address the entire fucking nation?" the brunette man shouted back, until he process his own words and registered completely who the man was in front of him – he proceeded to facepalm at his own stupidity.

"I'm sure you've probably realized the sheer idiocy of that statement, Will," Tyler deadpanned, "But I've addressed the entire fucking _world_ on several separate occasions – hell, my own son even stood up without any fear at all and declared war on what used to be the most powerful empire in history!"

"That son of yours got _your_ insanity, then," Wilhelm mumbled, only to be cuffed over the head.

"No, he got his mother's daring and both of our charisma." He glanced out the French doors and spotted the men outside gesturing to hurry, "Now, it's time for you to step up and make yourself known as a true damned Walther. Because after all, you're not a Walther until you've at least addressed a nation." Tyler hauled his younger brother up by the shoulders once more, pausing only to straighten his suit, and pushed him towards the doors. He gave the younger man a moment to compose himself, and then pulled the doors open – at that moment, it was as though Wilhelm was returning home. "Now, go condemn our enemies to eternal damnation."

Wilhelm Schulz Walther, the shy but charismatic and easily likeable thirty-eight year old youngest sibling was gone – in his place was Commandant Walther, or as he was jokingly referred to during his time after service, "Der Fuhrer, Wilhelm".

"**My people… People of Germany, people of the European Universe. For the last seven years, after the fall of Japan, Britannia has all but ruled the world – because of one pretty little weapon, which we all saw as unstoppable. We replicated it, but it came too late; Charles zi Britannia's mindless dogs roamed our countries with impunity, pillaging, killing and destroying with impunity.**

"**But then mere weeks ago, in the same nation that fell and paved the way for Britannia's conquest, a group of veteran men and women came to realize that no weapon is infallible, and overcame the Knightmare Frame's inherent advantages with experience, skill, strategy, tactics, and warriors' spirit! Shortly after, they dominated the hapless Britannian pigs and bulldozed over their own country, taking it back piece by piece through the strength of an oppressed nation, the intelligence and competence of dedicated soldiers, and through the BLIND ARROGANCE of Britannian society!**

"**And now, we see the people of our own countries, as well as others, fighting and dying together under the product of the oppressors and the oppressed, Lelouch Lamperouge-Walther of the **_**Schwarz Panzergruppe**_**!"** A cheer arose from the German audience, as well as the fans of the boy himself. **"One of our own has already risen to meet the enemy head-on, and he is fighting, and WINNING!**

"**So I ask you, people of the European Union… Will we follow his example? **_**Will we rise to the challenge and chase these dogs back to their kennel with their tails between their legs? **_**WILL YOU RISE ALONGSIDE YOUR FIGHTING MEN AND WOMEN TO TAKE BACK WHAT IS OURS?"**

The cheer that rose across the nation could hardly be put into words. Every man, woman, and child met Wilhelm's words with a united cry of war, shaking the Earth to its core as they spelled out Britannia's ultimate destruction.

"**Then, my people, we shall drive Britannia from our shores… And then… WE SHALL SHOW THE BRITANNIANS OUR OWN WARRIORS' SPIRIT!"**

"**DOWN WITH BRITANNIA! **_**LONG LIVE THE EUROPEAN UNION! **__**LONG LIVE THE FREE WORLD!**_**"**

As Wilhelm stepped back into the office, smirking coolly, Tyler clapped him on the shoulder. "Well if we aren't just a family of the most silver-tongued motherfuckers the world's ever seen, eh?"

"True enough, brother… True enough."

* * *

><p><strong>End of Interlude<strong>

**End Note: Was gonna post later, but I realized today, that as of 6/22/12, I am celebrating two years as an author on Fanfiction! WOO!**

… **Well, I got this done early, and I just decided to post this early instead of using it as a stall. Tune in next time for The Final Act, ladies and gents! Read and Review!**

**-KFR**


	10. Act 3 Pt 1

**A/N: Next installment has arrived! The end is near for Britannia, and Tokyo will decide its ultimate fate. HOW WILL IT END? **

**Hell, I don't even know – I think I'll flip a coin.**

**JUST KIDDING! Maybe.**

**Regardless of the eventual outcome, here's Act III, Part I. Enjoy!**

**Part 1 - _"Cruising for a Bruising"_**

* * *

><p><strong>November 30<strong>**th****, 2017 ATB  
>1300 hours<br>20 miles off the coast of Ibaraki Prefecture, Japan**

"This is it…" Captain Gerald Snow of the Royal Britannian Navy breathed joyously, "We're gonna be the first ones into Tokyo!"

His ship, the destroyer HMS_ Liverpool_, had just escorted a column of cargo and troopships across the Pacific to bring supplies to the beleaguered defenders of Tokyo. Dozens of other ships before him had tried – all had disappeared without a trace, their crews never heard from again. Japan had been in isolation for over two months behind the seemingly impenetrable screen of the Japan Maritime Self-Defense Force.

However, two days ago at dusk, Snow had coordinated heavily with scouting planes and other ships to slip his convoy through that screen, which another task group distracted the enemy in his section. They had steamed in from the north, east of Hokkaido, and had taken every precaution possible as they traversed the coastline at a safe distance.

Now, they were barely an hour away from safe port in Tokyo Bay, and the men were breathing sighs of relief.

Until…

"_Captain, projectile inbound! It's a sub-launched missile! Impact in twenty seconds!"_

"WHAT?" Snow called back in distress. "Counter with CIWS barrage, all batteries! Knock it down!"

"_It's directly off our 12 o'clock, the gun crew of the fore batteries can't reach their guns in time!"_

"Dammit, dammit, DAMMIT! All sections brace for impact and prepare to fire counter-barrage, there's no way we're coming this far just to die here without a fight!"

"_Five seconds… BRACE BRACE BRACE!"_ A massive explosion rocked the ship as the missile struck just above the waterline, tearing a gigantic hole in the forward port bow. Water flooded the front sections, and the ship immediately began to list.

"SHIT! What's the status on the rest of the convoy? HAVE THOSE IDIOTS PRESSED ON YET?"

"_Sir, three o'clock… It's a raiding force! IT'S THE BPG! THEY'RE HTTING THE CONVOY!"_

"FUCK!"

"_They're coming this way… What the hell? Those are Devora Mk. III fast attack craft, Israeli make!"_

"_I thought they were Sri Lankan?" _another section piped in.

"_No, the original design was Israeli. In any case… SNIPERS!" _The line went dead as a bloody pop came over, and a body was heard dropping to the deck.

A shot then shattered the front wind screen, and one of the radio operators dropped dead with a gaping hole in the side of his head. A second, and a third came through, the former ricocheting around before smacking into the side of a radar operator, and the latter flew straight and true… Into Snow's face, dropping him instantly.

With the cargo ships, small boats swarmed the waters and hooked onto the ships, their lithe masked riders vaulting over the guardrails and gunning down the soldiers on deck. One by one, the ships were emptied and towed out of line towards the shore, where recovery teams waited with semis and flatbeds.

"I _told you_ they would fall for it!" one of the supervisors, a young white-haired boy nudged his partner, Dmitri Novikov.

"Fine, fine, you had a good idea… This time," the Russian begrudgingly admitted.

The boy, an eighteen year-old named Rai Uzuki, had joined up with the BPG last month in northern Nagano prefecture, claiming that he had run all the way from Ashford Academy in Tokyo to find them. Lelouch, the one he was conveniently addressed, gave the boy a thorough interrogation before proclaiming him legitimate, and offering him a post under Dmitri and his naval raiding forces.

"_Man, what is this guy, a jack of all trades?" _one of the men had declared upon hearing of the Russian's new post. _"Political ambassador, air force pilot, now a sailor? Jesus, by the end of the week, he'll be leading his own goddamned country."_

And so, back to the subject, after a few weeks of Rai pitching his ideas at Dmitri, the man had finally agreed to try something – the operation seen here, which had gone off flawlessly from the coordination of the raiders and the cooperation of the JMSDF submarine, JDS _Soryu_.

"WOO!" Rai crowed happily, pumping a fist in the air and readjusting the AK-47 on his shoulder. "Epic win!"

"Quit being such a damned teenager and hurry up, we need to offload the cargo as quickly as possible," Dmitri grumbled, slamming a fresh drum into his PKM and yanking back the action. "As well as clear out the survivors…"

* * *

><p><strong>1500 hours<br>Saitama Ghetto, Tokyo**

"This is it," Naoto spoke gravely, loading up his web gear and selecting a weapon, "The Britannian Army has completely encircled Tokyo and sealed off the Inner Kanto Block. They have declared that none shall breach their defenses; today, ladies and gentlemen, we strike the enemy in their soft underbelly, to make way for our countrymen to take back the rest of our country."

"But Senpai, why are we striking Tokyo, when the SDF and BPG are still at least a prefecture away on all sides?" one of the newer members piped up from the back.

"By striking in the heart of Tokyo and maintaining an assault for long enough, we'll be drawing the army inwards, away from the outer prefectures, in order for the others to close in and draw the noose tight," the redheaded rebel explained calmly. "It may only be displacement, but it'll still help everyone else when it comes down the final attack – a higher concentration, and therefore a higher body count."

He picked out a stolen M416 assault carbine. "Any other questions?" No hands were raised. "Then we'll move from our stations tomorrow at 0300, sharp. Make your final preparations, say your goodbyes, and move to your pre-assigned areas for the last op. After this… It's all up to them."

"**HAI, NAOTO-SENPAI! LONG LIVE NEW JAPAN!"**

* * *

><p><strong>1530 hours<br>BPG Forward Command, Gunma Prefecture**

"I see… And you're absolutely sure of this?" Lelouch paced about the room, his phone resting on a table in the center.

"_Yes. Tomorrow at 0300, Naoto Kozuki and his three hundred men are launching an assault on RBA Tokyo." _

"Three hundred… How fitting," Lelouch chuckled dryly. "Alright, thank you for the information; I have a group somewhere nearby, I'll send them in immediately."

"_That's all I ask."_ The line went dead, and the boy walked over and snatched up the phone, pressing the first speed dial number.

"… _What can I do for you, Commander?"_ Dmitri's heavily-accented English crackled over the line.

"Colonel Novikov, how far is your raiding force from Tokyo?"

"_We're just up in southern Ibaraki, sir. Might I ask why?"_

"I need you to take some of your men, infiltrate Tokyo, and get Naoto Kozuki and his men out of there ASAP. They have far too much potential to be wasted on something as pathetic as a glorified suicide run."

"… _What's the deadline, Lelouch?"_

"Tomorrow, 0300. Can you make it to them before then?"

"_I'm afraid not. We need to get the rendezvous point to offload the recovered cargo, refit for further combat, and then the infiltration of Tokyo itself undetected is an excruciatingly tedious process. Since we're moving out right now, my estimate is 0345."_

Lelouch growled in frustration. "It'll have to do. Double-time, Dmitri; good men are about to be wasted." Mashing the end call button, he pocketed the phone and stepped out of the room, into the main hall of Maebashi City Hall. The hall itself had been transformed into the BPG's FCC in the area, with ornate tables and armchairs stored away, making room for weapons cases and numerous ammunition crates, with technicians scattered about on computers. One of the Korean radio operators stepped up and saluted.

"Sir! We've confirmed the central Britannian line holding at ten miles inside of the Saitama border, right outside the ghetto. We have confirmation of numerous engineers finishing a defensive wall, fourteen feet high and three feet thick, solid concrete with titanium reinforcement. There's only three checkpoints, and they're all remotely-operated rising barriers, with controls on a closed circuit within the containment area."

"What's the status of the demolition teams?"

"They had to fall back to the main encampment, sir. There are several tanks and Sutherlands scattered at intervals inside the wall itself, taking shots through firing slits and from semi-elevated platforms on the other side of the wall." Several of the coordinators cursed colorfully. Air support was currently grounded, due to the heavy concentration of Triple-A in the area, as well as the presence of several Britannian Naval Air Force squadrons stationed in and around Tokyo.

"Have the ground batteries taken shots at it yet?" He was referring to the several mobile missile platforms in the area.

"Repurposed CIWS cannons on the walls, sir."

"DAMMIT ALL! Fine… Wait for the forces in Nagano to join up with us, and we'll just have to shell the damn thing until it crumbles."

"Affirmative."

* * *

><p><strong>1700 hours<br>Kadena Air Base, Okinawa**

The entire city of Kadena, Okinawa had essentially become the central fortress and waypoint of Britannian air and naval forces in the Pacific, next to the Philippines. Since Prince Schneizel and RBA Taskforce 301 had taken refuge on the island over a month ago, things had been relatively quiet in this part of the island prefecture.

Schneizel, in his political cunning and experience, had immediately declared the area to be an integrated sector of the remnants of the country, offering a policy of equality for the duration of the Britannian occupation of the city and base. The local population had been sufficiently pacified by this offer, and thusly, Kadena had seen the lowest volume of insurgency action within a hundred mile radius.

The soldiers within the area, being a mostly hand-picked group of the sons and daughters of the middle and lower class, were also cooperating, living amongst the Japanese of the area with little incident, and providing good business for the local economy.

The Second Prince's prototype aerial battleship, the _Avalon_, had been the centerpiece of the base for the time, resting in the center of the large area of tarmac and serving as his personal headquarters, although Schneizel enjoyed occasional excursions to take in the scenery.

Now, he was stretched out on the vacant upper deck with a bottle of the area's signature _Sake_, as well as a large dossier on the most recent military actions over in mainland Japan. This boy, Lelouch Lamperouge, was proving to be quite the effective strategist _and_ tactician, as well as a capable soldier.

Kanon lay prone on the opposite end of the deck, staring down the sights of a CheyTac Intervention M-200 sniper rifle, lauded as one of, if not the most accurate and deadly rifle of its kind in the world. Seven hundred yards away, atop one of the massive hangar complexes, an eight-inch diameter target rested.

He slowly squeezed the trigger, and the rifle snapped as the deadly .408 round flew at subsonic and higher speeds, slamming into the target, just a quarter inch left of dead center. The target itself, an impact explosive, went up in a column of orange flame.

"Still a little off…" the attendant muttered, rising his feet and unloading the empty magazine. He had been re-familiarizing himself with several frontline combat weapons in the last month, and had already gone through several SMGs and light machine guns.

"Don't beat yourself up, Kanon," Schneizel called back off-handedly, "You're an attendant and bodyguard to a prominent politician, not a battlefield mercenary or a soldier."

"Doesn't mean I shouldn't know the tools of all trades," Kanon replied quietly. An NCO jogged on deck and retrieved the rifle, leaving in its place a G-36E assault rifle. Kanon retrieved the new gun and looked it over critically, leaning over a folding table and proceeding to disassemble it. "I must admit, the Germans do have a way with assault weapons," he tossed in distractedly.

"Of course, why do you think we stole so many of them?" the prince tossed another inaccurate situational assessment over his shoulder with a groan. "Why is it that analysts in the homeland try to write up foreign situation reports with nothing but information from the news and internet?"

"Because they have no desire to talk to the people who are actually dying from misinformation." Kanon finished putting the gun back together, and set it aside with a recovered MP5MOD6 and a Glock 21 pistol. "So many wonderful weapons and none of them are ours… What does that say about us?"

"That we've grown overly reliant on the technology that we looted from our conquests, and the closest definition to "original" in Britannia is stolen before actual production." He opened up a new report from one of the actual frontline Britannian commanders and burst out laughing, sliding the file across the deck to Kanon. "It's good to see that the men who are fighting still have a sense of humor regarding their situations." The attendant picked up the file and flicked through it, chuckling amusedly at some of the descriptions of the upper echelons.

"Indeed." He tossed it back into the box at Schneizel's side and finished loading up a combat pack and web gear. "So Your Highness, do you have any intentions of actually attempting to assist Princess Cornelia before Tokyo falls?"

"Yes, yes, we'll be sending a few units her way… But in all honesty, I'm content with waiting until the mainland falls and surrendering peaceably to the BPG when they arrive."

"How do you know that it'll be the BPG to strike here when the JSDF are furthest south?" Seconds after this question, a trio of matte black MD-500 light attack choppers flew overhead, their undersides bearing silver stylized vultures. "Oh."

"Yes, they've been drilling overhead all day – you honestly haven't noticed?"

"I could barely hear anything over the machine guns."

"… You stopped firing the machine guns over three hours ago, Kanon," Schneizel informed hesitantly.

"Well then if you'll excuse me, I'll be heading down to the medical bay to get my hearing checked."

* * *

><p><strong>December 1<strong>**st****  
>0255 hours<br>RBA Tokyo, South Gate**

A line of vehicles waited outside the gates of the Royal Britannian Army Base at Tokyo, moving slowly due to maximum security checks – full vehicle inspection, as well as DNA identification and full x-ray and cavity searches of the entrants.

Nineteen year-old Saito Mitsutake drummed idly on the steering wheel of the semi, glancing back occasionally to check on the truck's other occupants – Twenty armed-to-the-teeth guerillas and two Heavy Assault Burai. Scattered throughout the line were five other trucks, carrying a total of eighty more infantrymen, eight more Burai, and a prototype Japanese Type 10B tank, equipped with a pair of 60mm rail guns in place of the main cannon. Retractable support struts had also been added to the back, to compensate for the recoil – unfortunately, the recoil meant that the guns couldn't be fired on the move without tossing around the tank and its occupants a bit.

'_Five minutes till go time…'_ he mentally noted, also taking note that it would be around this point that he would reach the front of the line. He stared up at the sky and noted six AH-6D Little Bird light attack choppers making the rounds. _'Good, they've worked themselves into the pattern, right on schedule.'_

The other soldiers and drivers waited in the same anxious silence, double, triple and quadruple-checking weapons and equipment. Everyone clutched their weapons like a lifeline, and several passed around saucers of Sake while saying their individual prayers.

0259. Everyone had a saucer clutched in their gloved hands, and had finished their prayers. Taking one last swig to drain the remainder of the rice wine, they smashed the thin clay vessels on the floor.

_Down with Britannia… __**Long live New Japan!**_

Saito pulled up to the checkpoint and rolled down the window as a bored-looking Britannian soldier walked up. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to exit the vehicle for inspection…"

0300.

Saito whipped out his MP5 and shoved the barrel in the soldier's face. "DIE, BRITANNIAN DOGS!" He squeezed off a long burst and quickly sprayed the checkpoint before ducking down in the cab, narrowly avoiding the returning volleys that smashed the windscreen.

The troops in the back smashed the release switches for the cargo doors, and the Knightmares and tank rolled out first, destroying any military vehicles in sight as the infantry poured out and started firing at army personnel.

Overhead, five of the six Little Birds turned on the odd man out, and three of them hosed down the poor clueless pilot with their M134 miniguns. Once it had crashed into the tarmac, the choppers moved on and scattered about the base, selecting targets and setting to work pulverizing the facilities and exposed troops.

* * *

><p><strong>0259<br>RBA Tokyo Mess Hall**

For the two-thirds of the Tokyo garrison that didn't live in the Government Bureau, the Command Center and Mess Hall at the other end of the tarmac was the place to be. Everyone flying in could be dropped instantly, and more people and weapons went through this building than the armory would ever see.

A few guard squads were gathered around a particular returning company, who were showing off recovered Japanese and Russian assault weapons.

"And _here_, ladies and gentlemen, we have _the_ most reliable assault rifle in the world – it takes mud! It takes water! It takes dirt! And it'll _still_ punch a hole in the other guy's chest!" one of the men announced grandly, as though selling a car. A few of the men laughed, and one of them stepped forward.

"Hey, can I have a look?" he asked.

The man with the rifle looked down as his watch beeped – 0300.

"Sure! Hey, how's about a fire sale, everybody!" he called to his comrades. The men and women nodded in understanding, and raised their weapons. "FIRE!"

The rifles chattered and shredded every single true Britannian soldier in the room, including the kitchen staff. "And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how we do a fire sale in Japan. The bullets are on us!" the same man declared, humorlessly. "Or rather, they're _in_ you."

A half-dressed NCO stumbled in drunkenly, and blinked in shock as three dozen weapons were snapped straight towards him; he was dispatched from behind by the butt stock of an AK-103 and an execution shot to the back of the head.

"_NIPPON BANZAI!"_ the new arrival declared, thrusting his rifle in the air.

"_**NIPPON BANZAI!"**_ The troops split into assault groups and headed for their designated targets; in the barracks, motor pool, and aerodrome, other groups would be doing the same.

* * *

><p><strong>Same time<br>Barracks 6-B**

"I _TOLD _you to hit the showers at the same time, or else they would hear the gunfire!"

"They're in the fucking _showers_, how the hell was I supposed to know that they would actually be _armed?_"

"Because we're all goddamned _soldiers_, therefore we all live by the same principle of CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

The captain and his First Sergeant were duking it out over the bodies of dead and bare Britannian soldiers, whose blood was running into the drains. The other dozen or so men in the area with them were shaking their heads, several still in the process of getting dressed.

One of the men finished pulling on his vest and clapped both men on the shoulders. "Ladies, you're both beautiful – now shut the fuck up so we can get moving." The two squabbling soldiers turned and glared at their comrade, only to realize that the rest of them were glaring impatiently.

A Britannian soldier ran into the room, only to be shot on an afterthought by one of the insurgents beside the door. This served the break the tension, oddly enough, as they exchanged final glares and harsh remarks before heading for the exits.

"Idiots…" one of the men muttered; he whipped his head to the right to avoid a pistol round. "HEY!"

"Shove it and get to work," the captain growled. It was then that a certain feisty redhead entered, toting an MG-36 and looking rather put-off.

"Quit the fucking pissing contest and do your goddamned jobs before I relieve you both!" Kallen Kozuki swore, gesturing with the hefty machine gun in her arms. The captain and his second paled dramatically, and nodded hurriedly. With another gesture of the MG, they were off in a blink. "Macho idiots…" she growled under her breath, slinging the gun's strap back across her shoulders and pressing on into the hallway.

By this point, their end of the base was alive with activity; most of it was combat. The single tank that they had brought was holed up behind an impromptu three hundred and sixty degree barrier, which consisted of a ring of four-foot high concrete barriers, with riflemen ducked behind them. The Type-10B sat in the center, the ground around it shaking with every volley from its twin 60mm rail guns. The turret rotated towards the air traffic control tower, and before anyone could blink, the reinforced structure had been bisected diagonally by a pair of supersonic shells.

An Abrams rolled around the corner of a bunker, its own gun turning towards the Japanese machine; it fired once, but the shell arced just over the rear of the tank. The 10B's guns rotated to face it, and it completely blew away the turret from the rest of the tank, as well as tearing a large rip straight through the lower body. The Abrams could barely pass for scrap.

"Commander, we need to move on from this sector and press the offensive down the tarmac!" a radio operator called out to the tank commander. Naoto nodded in consent, and the rear struts rose back onto the tank; the Type 10 then rolled straight over the concrete barrier immediately in front of it, partially crushing it in the process.

"They're setting up tank traps further up!"

"Well then get the engineers and the Burai up there and get rid of them!"

* * *

><p><strong>0315<strong>

"Well, that was a lot faster process then I expected…" Rai muttered as he passed through the wrecked gates of the RBA Tokyo north checkpoint on a Suzuki dirt bike, his AK-47 slung across his back. As it turns out, it's fairly simple to infiltrate a city that was under siege from the inside.

"Alright, let's find the action." He zipped around the area, swerving through the wrecks of vehicles and occasionally pulling some tricks off of a series of impromptu scrap metal ramps. He passed through several groups of Japanese guerillas, decked out in full combat gear and advancing on foot in the direction of greatest fighting. Several more of the lesser guerilla groups must've joined them in the process of preparation and first strike, since unless there were more to the rear than at the front, there was definitely a greater number here than three hundred; perhaps only four hundred, but most definitely greater than three.

The odd part was that no one attempted to stop him as he rode straight through; he would've thought that for all of the praise given to this particular group for training, someone would've stopped to at least ask for his name and unit.

He shrugged; it just made his job easier. After all, if no one even knew he was the messenger, they would be even less likely to shoot him.

He finally approached a tank from the rear… Which in hindsight, was an _extremely_ bad idea, seeing as the hundred-ton death machine was currently planted in place, firing glowing blue projectiles from a pair of cannons with enough recoil to send anyone not secured on it flying back several dozen yards; it also carried the standard three-MG complement, one of which was quickly trained on him.

"_You there! Identify yourself!"_ someone called out over the tank's PA. Rai flashed the emblem on his beret at the turret's cameras, and the firing of the gun quickly ceased. The top hatch opened up, and a redheaded man of twenty-something jumped out with a disgruntled expression.

"What the hell is the BPG doing here?" he grunted, taking a swig from a canteen, "Last I heard you guys were still a prefecture away."

"Technically, we are, but the Commander sent a detachment out as a naval raiding force, and well… Semantics," Rai shrugged. "In any case, Lelouch wants you guys to cut this shit out and go home."

Naoto's brow rose… and rose higher… and then the other one… and before Rai knew it, the man looked like he was ready to shoot the messenger. _'I told Dmitri that I AM NOT A GOOD MESSENGER!'_ the boy shouted mentally, reaching around slowly for the comforting firmness of the classic walnut grip of his AK.

The eldest Kozuki was absolutely _seething_ with rage at this boy's outlandish demand. "… I don't _really_ need to launch into a huge rant on how utterly _ridiculous_ that request is, right?" Seeing the boy's nod, he then proceeded to drain his canteen and chuck it as hard as possible at Rai's head – to which the boy raised his AK and shredded the metal container.

All activity around them froze; all guns were turned and trained on Rai.

"How's about you DON'T SHOOT THE GODDAMNED MESSENGER AND **LISTEN TO ME!**" the teen roared, his rifle held high in his right hand, while his left clenched a fragmentation grenade. The troops in the vicinity froze up, and the standoff progressed up to the point that Rai held the grenade's pin between his teeth, until Naoto finally called for everyone to stand down. Then, looking between the redhead and the live grenade in his hand, Rai spit out the pin and used an impressive hook throw to lob the frag over a hundred yards into a wrecked bunker, all while maintaining a sheepish grin. "I just _hate_ not being taken seriously…" he chuckled, all the while loading a fresh clip to replace the empty one in his rifle.

"Anyways, this attack is pointless." Before any of the guerillas could protest, he pulled out another frag and stared at them all daringly, "Because Cornelia no longer cares about holding Japan."

The soldiers froze, and Naoto was shocked. "What? Why not?"

"Because the Britannian public no longer supports the Area system," Rai replied smoothly. "Three quarters of the Britannian populace is calling for the Emperor to step down for a better-suited successor; and there is no doubt that Cornelia herself is planning a coup d'etat." He boldly walked forward, and perched himself on the edge of the tank. "She's already opened up negotiations with Lelouch and Katase; the enemy soldiers in the prefectures outside of Tokyo are all warmongers and pure-bloods. Plan is, we wipe them out; have one last big battle at Tokyo; and Cornelia goes home with her head held high to depose her father, if someone hasn't done so already."

The Japanese insurgents really didn't know how to react to this. Naoto was completely baffled.

"Umm…"

"So, might I suggest that we again, get the hell out of here?" Rai asked bluntly, shoulder his weapon and pointing to the reforming Britannian lines several hundred meters away. His point was emphasized as a 105mm Howitzer shell landed directly in front of the Type 10B.

"Yeah… Let's get out of here," one of the men concluded, slowly drawing back and jumping into an appropriated Humvee. One by one, his comrades followed him, and before they even knew it, all that remained was the tank and Rai's bike.

"… Well that was easier than I expected," the white-haired boy whistled in appreciation. "I guess I should probably go and intercept the boss before he goes through the trouble of busting through the barricade with the convoy."

"Lelouch sent a whole _taskforce_?" the redheaded leader exclaimed.

"Nah, we were just in the neighborhood," Rai replied dismissively. "Woulda just been me if Dmitri wasn't the ranking officer in this sector; plus, we were expecting to have to cover a retreat or something like that."

"You might have to," Naoto gulped, pointing to the front. Rai turned and looked, and his eyes nearly bugged out of his head as a formation of Abrams tanks, supported by an apparent platoon of Sutherlands and Gloucesters, charged straight at them. The tank's gunner charged up the guns once more, and blasted straight through the two lead tanks; that was until they started firing back.

Rai wordlessly took his phone from his pocket, and dialed a peculiar eight-digit number. "Voskod Squadron, you have permission to engage ground targets in Sector Tango-Sierra; terminate enemy armor on Vector 210 Sierra-Whiskey." Static reined for a long moment before a reply came.

"… _Roger, Papa-Zulu; any particular preference for a deterrent?"_ the apparent flight lead called back.

"You're equipped with the Nevada-Charlie solution, right? Deploy it straight across the tarmac, put up a barrier for us." Rai snapped the phone shut. Exactly fifteen agonizing seconds later, as the tanks and Knightmares grew closer and closer, the roar of jet engines swept across the base; A formation of four F-35Cs ripped through the skies barely three hundred feet from the ground, and one dropped a UGB into the advancing spearhead, ripping the machines to shreds, and cratering the runway. Similar explosions bloomed across the entire length of the area, and then the planes broke formation and swept away.

However, before leaving the scene, one of the planes circled back and dropped a canister off to one side of the tarmac; everyone assumed it to be a miss, until the canister opened up and released several dozen bomblets, which then began to burn upon contact. Solution Nevada-Charlie, aka: Napalm C.

In this moment of reprieve, the Type 10 retracted its struts and turned tail to run; Rai, displaying impressive upper body strength, hefted his bike and used the raised struts as a storage rack, jumping onto the back of the tank and resting atop the turret.

The boy flipped his phone open again and speed-dialed his boss. After two rings, an angry Russian voice replied loudly.

"_RAI! I told you to check in twenty minutes ago! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?"_

"Boss, I'm not going to update you on the situation until you _stop fucking yelling at me!_" Rai snapped back. A deep breath was heard over the line.

"_Fine. Second Lieutenant Rai Uzuki, what do you have to report?"_

"That's better. See how easy that was, Dmitri?" the boy taunted in a chiding voice.

"_How about I try something else? Give me a damned report before _I_ put _YOU_ on report,"_ the Russian growled.

"Alright, alright… I've made contact with Kozuki; I updated him on the current national situation, and his troops are in full withdrawal, with the Britannians in no condition to pursue. Translation: You can go home, and I'll wrap things up here."

"_Your tone is bordering insubordinate, boy…"_

"I meant the statement in the simplest and most direct manner possible, _Colonel_," the boy hissed back. "Now please, I advise that you take my report and conclusion under _careful consideration_, and go home to a nice bottle of vodka." He clicked the phone shut before Dmitri's indignant and outraged retort could come through, while the boy himself was seething. "Arrogant _bastard!_ Why Lelouch took him as his second, I'll never fucking know…"

Naoto was still perched in the commander's cupola, listening to the loud conversation over the grinding of the tank's treads on the tarmac. In the time, they had reached the southern checkpoint, through which the bulk of his forces had already escaped, and were bound once more for Kanagawa Ghetto, which was now being militarily and physically sealed off.

* * *

><p><strong>0330 hours<br>Kanagawa Ghetto, Naoto Kozuki's Central HQ**

See, the entirety of the central Tokyo Concession was built over the ruins of the old, and secured via a series of interlocking plates, with each plate being a square kilometer in surface area. The entire system of plates was secured to the higher-elevated terrain on all sides of the designated area, which basically consisted of the Tokyo area, and half of each of the prefectures on all sides.

As the Type 10 rumbled over the imperceptible boundary line between the plates, it rolled to a stop, and Rai looked questioningly at the redhead.

"What's going on?"

"You'll see," Naoto grinned back. "BLOW IT, BOYS!"

Straight across the plate boundaries between Tokyo proper and Kanagawa, shaped charges planted at strategic intervals blew away any exterior connectivity that might hold the plates together; within moments of this, a great fissure seemed to split along the same lines.

In actuality, sympathetic Honorary Britannian soldiers had seized the sector's plate control center, and had the operators purge the connections. And so, the giant three hundred meter-thick slabs of heaviest layered metals split apart, with the plates on the Tokyo side falling in and creating a slope, whereas submerged supports kept the Kanagawa side standing. The rebels within the ghetto let out a massive cheer, and were joined by the residents. The Britannians could do nothing but watch as the closest facsimile to a new state was created within their very settlement; and the military was incapable of retaliation, as any acts of aggression would be seen as indiscriminate violence against a sector full of civilians.

The analysis was unanimous – it was probably the cleanest state formation history had and would ever see. And no one had the argument to support any accusations of cowardice for hiding behind noncombatants.

Rai was in awe as he processed the implications. "Kozuki, you ingenious sonovabitch…"

Naoto was cracking up in amusement at the reactions, as well as self-satisfaction. "That worked out _way_ better than I expected."

"Well," Rai sighed tiredly, "I'm afraid I must be off. Fortunately, however, I can report to the nearest OP instead of straight to Dmitri, since his was my last assignment directly with him." He removed the bike from the tank's struts and kick-started it. He was about to ride off, but Naoto placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey," he said hesitantly, "… I need you to do me a favor. Well actually, it's a favor for my sister, Kallen."

"… I'm listening," the boy replied slowly.

"Well, with this engagement, we're really not going to be seeing any active combat; but see, Kallen's really antsy with having to just sit and watch, and she's expressed a great interest in joining up with the BPG, if only on a temporary basis until Japan is freed."

"So you want me to take her with me?"

"… As much as it pains me to say it, yes," Naoto groaned. "But if I hear about any funny shit, it's your ass, buddy!"

"Right, right," Rai conceded, raising his hands in submission. "Well, where is she? I'm on a deadline before the Russian actually drags my ass back himself."

Naoto turned and gave a shrill whistle, as well as calling out, "KALLEN! Your ticket's here!"

A head of red, the same shade as the elder male, bobbed through the crowd of assembled rebels. Partway through, the person clearly became impatient, as people were quickly shoved aside. The last man (who as look would have it, _wasn't_ Tamaki,) was drop-kicked out of the way.

Rai's first impression – _'Oh Kami help me…'_

"Alright, pipsqueak, let's get moving!" Kallen Kozuki grunted, hopping onto the back of the bike. Rai knew better than to protest, simply from the pitying looks he was getting from the guerillas. He revved the bike, and then headed off for the western exit of the ghetto, headed for Gunma.

* * *

><p><strong>0400 hours<br>Government Bureau, Viceroy's Office**

"I hate my job…" Cornelia sighed, massaging her temples as she leaned on the balustrade of her office's balcony, watching the flames burn on the tarmac below. The Napalm had been burning for roughly forty minutes, and it showed no signs of dying down. They had tried throwing water; it seemed to burn higher. They tried smothering it; it burned everything it touched, no exceptions. The chemical warfare specialists had circled the flames in a sort of science-nerd fascination, examining the burning compote and taking samples from the cooler patches. Analysis and lab tests had declared it to be a newer version of Napalm, which incorporated a fuel that was apparently capable of breaking the bonds between oxygen and hydrogen in water, and utilizing one while expelling the other. It would burn out eventually; but for now, they were forced to try and work around it.

It was easier said than done to "work around" a hundred meter-long by five meter-tall strip of fire that clung to just about anything.

"_Viceroy Cornelia,"_ her secretary's voice broke her from her thoughts, _"Colonel Guilford and General Darlton are here with a prisoner."_

"Send them in," Cornelia called back. A minute later, the pair entered the lavish office with a young Japanese woman of twenty slung between them.

"This woman here is Naomi Inoue, one of Naoto Kozuki's insurgents; she's apparently fairly close to him," Darlton grunted, gesturing for Guilford to set her down on the couch. The former knight complied, but stood near her, his arms folded with an impassive expression. The blue-haired woman was admirably defiant, but anyone could see that it was a façade to disguise her fear and regret.

"So, Miss Inoue," Cornelia stood and walked around to the front of her desk, her eyes never leaving the poor trembling girl, "What purpose did Naoto have in attacking Tokyo?"

Inoue was still shaking, though she was also apparently in deep thought. Finally, she took a deep breath, "W-we were trying to draw the Britannian forces back into Tokyo and give the BPG and the JSDF more leverage in the outer prefectures."

The Viceroy-General's brows rose into her hairline. "Quite clever… But was he unaware of the arrangements I myself have already made with both of said factions?"

"Yes, he did not know of them until a BPG messenger caught up and told us to break off engagement," she admitted. "But I was wounded during the retrograde movement, and thusly captured, so I'm unaware of what happened next."

"Well then, let me fill you in," the princess perched on her desk, folding her arms under her bosom, "Kozuki retreated into the Kanagawa Ghetto, and somehow managed to infiltrate the plate control facilities sufficiently to collapse the plates between the main settlement and said ghetto."

"Then the plan worked!" Inoue declared, overtaken by joy and relief. Cornelia's eyes narrowed, but she remained silent until the girl finished wiping away her tears.

"Regardless of previous arrangements, though, you are required to be tried as an insurgent responsible for the deaths of Britannian military operatives." Inoue's relief turned back to horror. "However, seeing as you willing turned over this information outside of interrogation, the sentence will not be death, I can assure you that much – imprisonment at the most."

"And that is just _SO_ much better!" she slumped back.

"Yes, but I hold the right to pass sentence personally, seeing as I bore witness to the entire scenario," Cornelia grinned slyly. Inoue's expression shifted to confusion and mistrust. "You will be sent to the Yokosuka Prison and kept under minimum security; I'll trust you not to escape, seeing as how the JSDF is patrolling the coastline daily, suspected to be preparing for an assault." The girl then understood what the princess was getting at, and grinned back.

"Oh, you can trust me, Your Highness," she drawled sarcastically.

"Right… Guilford, I'm entrusting you to get her to Yokosuka," she then turned to the colonel, who simply nodded and, gesturing for Inoue to follow, left the office. Cornelia was slightly hurt at the coldness, but shrugged it off and addressed Darlton. "Get in contact with my brother on Okinawa and ask him about his chosen date for his first run." The general nodded, and left for the communications center.

* * *

><p><strong>0430 hours<br>Kadena Air Base, Okinawa**

Schneizel el Britannia was a man of dedication and diligence. When he had an assignment or a goal, it would be prepared for and carried out with the absolute highest level of detail and fullness in preparation and execution. That was in most cases, anyway.

At the moment, he had rolled out several strips of astro-turf on the deck of the Avalon, and was putting a few rounds with the night watch officers.

Kanon jogged onto deck with a commlink, and passed it off to the blond prince once he had taken his shot – hole in one. "General Darlton of Cornelia's staff, asking for your ETA, Your Highness."

"Ah, Andreas!" Schneizel greeted warmly, leaving on his club and settling the phone in the crook of his neck, "What can I do for you?" A formality, of course.

"_Your Highness, Princess Cornelia would like to know the date and time at which you'll begin your first run for the mainland,"_ Darlton said impassively.

"Ah yes, the run…" he managed to disguise the slight tone of reluctance, "We'll be ready to move out in two days, at 0700 hours. Is this time satisfactory?"

"_Quite so, Your Highness. I've been informed that Taskforce 324 is going to be making their run for Ibaraki at roughly the same time, so hopefully the simultaneously assaults will split their attention."_

"Wonderful! We'll launch at the appointed time, and hopefully we'll be able to make it into Tokyo to relieve my dear sister by the end of the day." Schneizel then disconnected the link without waiting for a response, and passed the device back to Kanon as the division commander, Major General Ethan Thompson, smoothly shot a hole-in-one from across the deck.

"So then we have to leave?" the thirty year old man (the youngest with his rank) whined childishly.

"Unfortunately so, General," the prince also sighed disappointedly. "We'll be traveling with all equipment, to maintain appearances; and if we're entirely engaged, we'll be forced to retaliate in full."

"Well, it was fun while it lasted…" the officers lamented.

* * *

><p><strong>0700 hours<br>Yoron Jima (satellite of Kagoshima Prefecture), Amami Islands**

To most after the initial invasion, Yoron Island was a massive rock covered in foliage, with no remaining signs of civilization other than an airstrip after the resorts had been seized by the Britannians and later destroyed in various terrorist attacks. However, if those people were to look at the _edge_ of the foliage on the northeast side, they might see something entirely different…

Such as a secret JSDF submarine base.

This base had actually served as the primary headquarters of the JMSDF's surviving and newly-constructed attack submarines for the last seven years, under the command of fifty-eight year old Rear Admiral Kobayashi Yamata. The old man had a nearly stereotypical long, whispy grey-white beard, and long, finely-kempt hair of the same color, held up in a single bun at the back of his scalp.

Seventeen attack subs now made up his fleet, his personal raiders against the Royal Britannian Navy. On top of this, he also commanded a detachment of eight SH-60J helicopters, and a flight of four F-35Cs, valued for their turbofan vertical takeoff and omnidirectional movement capabilities. To top it off, the base was occupied by a battalion of seasoned MSDF sailors and security personnel, as well as a company of Special Boarding Unit soldiers.

Lately, it had also become home to an ASDF electronic intercept team, which served to monitor communications between the Britannian detachment on Okinawa and mainland Japan.

An Air Force runner rushed through the hallways, running towards the command center with a printed version of Darlton and Schneizel's conversation in hand. He reached his destination in record time, and passed it off to Yamata, who stood on the balcony overlooking the dry docks. The aging admiral accepted the paper with a light smile, which grew exponentially as he read the intercept.

"Bring me Captains Ishikawa, Morimoto and Konbei."

Captain Marcus Ishikawa – formerly Chief Petty Officer Ishikawa, promoted after his destroyer's captain had been murdered by a turncoat during the invasion. When the destroyer itself had been scuttled upon return to port, and the entire crew forced into a massive firefight with Britannian soldiers on the docks, Marcus and several other crew members had made a last-ditch dive into the icy waters of Tokyo Bay. Before succumbing to shock, they had been retrieved a friendly submarine, the JDS _Kenryu_, and later used to bolster the missing and dead crewmen. Seven months later, Ishikawa was commanding the _Kenryu_.

Captain Tosen Morimoto – formerly Vice-Admiral Morimoto, the ranking officer of the SBU. When the majority of his original unit off of Ibaraki had been lead into a trap aboard a fake Russian freighter, and either captured or wiped out, he had jumped straight from the bridge of the sinking JDS _Kongo_ into the icy waters of the Pacific with his personal staff, and been picked up by the submarine _Hakuryu_.

Captain Masaharu Konbei was the only legitimate surviving Captain in the bunch, having commanded the JDS _Unryu_ for the last twelve straight years. He and his crew had been in charge of an underwater minefield sixty miles southeast of the Mie Prefecture's coast, and had been ambushed by a platoon of Portman Knightmares. The sub had feigned flooding through use of a prototype dreadnought protective shell, allowing the outer layer to be breached, and sinking straight to hit the bottom of the sea. They had then sat there, idly and silently, for six straight hours, essentially freezing the inside of the ship and not speaking a word as they were painstakingly examined by Britannian divers. When the Portman frames had left, and divers attempted to enter the ship, they were shot upon entry, and the sub had then come to life, sinking two destroyers and an amphibious assault ship during their escape to their base at Yoron Island.

Now, these three men, along with the absent commander of the _Soryu_, made up a corps of the Maritime Self-Defense Force known as the _Shinshin no Kaze no Gekido_, the Fury of the Four Divine Winds. Each captain commanded one of the branches, which consisted of the hardest, most experienced and talented raiders of the MSDF. These soldiers had survived the invasion, and for the last seven years, relentlessly battered Britannian naval forces all over the Pacific, even once going so far as to blow a hole in the side of a Britannian aircraft carrier… In Pearl Harbor!

And now, the Four Winds were being called out all together for only the second time – to capture Schneizel el Britannia, the second prince of the Britannian Empire.

"I've only called you here as a formality, to deliver your ultimate objective," Yamata spoke slowly, resting in an armchair on the balcony, his fingers steepled in front of his face. "It is up to you to decide how it is carried out. I have the utmost faith in your abilities, gentlemen," the old man smiled slightly, "After all, I taught each of you myself."

The three men were each kneeling, a fist planted on the ground, and their heads bowed reverently. "_Hai, sensei_," they intoned.

"I would advise, however, that you contact the Shinozaki Clan for support."

They each stiffened in unison, their minds turning to their fourth member… Captain Momochi Shinozaki, the thirty-sixth director to the Shinozaki School of Martial Arts.

* * *

><p><strong>0730 hours<br>Ashford Academy**

Sayoko Shinozaki seemed to be an ordinary maid, as well as the attendant to Nunnally Lamperouge. She was currently preparing a simple Western breakfast of pancakes and bacon… Until she threw the spatula with enough velocity to bury the head three inches into the wall.

The person who had previously occupied the space stepped out from behind the refrigerator, arms folded. Any discernible features were hidden by a hood, which cast a shadow over the top half of his face.

Sayoko reached up to the back of her head and retrieved a kunai knife, throwing it with twice the force of the spatula – the stranger stepped aside a very precise distance, and snatched the handle of the iron knife an instant before it touched the wall.

"What would the Ashfords say about you doing all of this damage, Sayo-chan?" the person taunted in an indiscernible voice. However, the Japanese maid seemed to recognize it.

"… Momo-kun?" she edged cautiously, a second knife slipping slowly from her hand. The individual nodded wordlessly, and the kunai clattered to the tile floor as she dashed forward with unbelievable speed and wrapped her arms around them.

"It's been too long, nee-chan."

"H-hai, it has, onii-san," she stuttered, pulling herself against his coat tighter. They stood silently for a long while, reveling in each other's presence. Until the man pulled away, looking down at his younger sister sadly.

"I'm not coming back after this one," he declared tonelessly. "The Dragon of the Sky's wings have grown old and feeble."

"You're barely forty!" Sayoko replied.

"Ah, but my vessel is a part of me," he chuckled humorlessly. "And she is a relic of a bygone era. After this battle, I will be obsolete… And as such, I will simply… Fade away," he emphasized with a smooth sweep of his hand. "War makes you old, Sayo-chan.

"But then why don't you just take up the school?" she demanded, tears welling up in her eyes.

"I've given the school everything I have to offer. Forty years in the shadows, whether it be in the city or under the sea… I'd like to live the rest of my life in my own little patch of light, until I slip away to wherever I will go." He thumbed away a stray tear from her eye, "The school is waiting for _you_, sister. You will instruct the next generation, and then, you shall _bear_ the next generation. Your children shall take up the mantle, and if you decide not to bear any, then our nieces and nephews shall take over."

"You're always concerned over business…" the younger woman wept quietly. "What about the rest of the family, huh? _What about _your_ family?_"

He smiled softly. "They're coming with me. I couldn't just live my life alone, now could I?" he chuckled humorlessly. "We'll see each other again someday… And maybe I can meet my brother-in-law." Despite the current circumstances, Sayoko couldn't fight down a blush as her brother chuckled again and pulled away. "I'll see you again, someday." He kissed her forehead and then stepped back, offering a two-fingered salute before back-flipping out the window.

'_Stay safe… Momochi-kun.'_

* * *

><p><strong>December 2<strong>**nd****, 2017 ATB  
>1400 hours<br>Luzon, Philippine Islands**

Britannian Naval Taskforce 324, made up of two aircraft carriers, three amphibious assault carriers, five cruisers, and six destroyers, along with numerous smaller support and troopships, was preparing to set out towards the assembly point, where they would take on additional troops and aircraft from other taskforces before making a run for the east coast of Japan.

Fleet Admiral William Halsey looked upon the force with pride, having personally selected each ship.

"Admiral, we're preparing to get underway," one of the bridge officers reported, saluting.

"Excellent; make for the harbor entrance and move out to sea," he ordered. Then, suddenly, the bridge was bathed in red light as warning alarms blared.

"_INCOMING MISSILES!"_

"_BEGIN PHALANX FIRE!"_

"_WE CAN'T GET THE SYSTEM UP IN TIME! __**BRACE FOR IMPACT!**__"_

The entire area shook as a trio of UGM-84 Harpoon missiles struck key ships in the flotilla – Halsey's flagship, the carrier HMS _Queen Victoria_; an amphibious assault ship; and one of the heavy cruisers. All three ships were scuttled as the missiles penetrated the topside decks and detonated at the waterline. In all, Taskforce 324 would be sufficiently delayed until the new chain of command was established – Schneizel was going into hostile waters, alone.

**End Part 1**

* * *

><p><span>Technical Profile – <span>_Soryu_-class Submarine

Displacement:

Surfaced: 2,900 tonnes (2,854 long tons)  
>Submerged: 4,200 t (4,134 long tons)<p>

Length:

84.0 m (275 ft 7 in)

Beam:

9.1 m (29 ft 10 in)

Draught:

8.5 m (27 ft 11 in)

Propulsion:

1-shaft 2× Kawasaki 12Ｖ 25/25 SB-type diesel engines diesel-electric  
>4× Kawasaki Kockums V4-275R Stirling engines<br>3,900 hp (2,900 kW) surfaced  
>8,000 hp (6,000 kW) submerged<p>

Speed:

Surfaced: 13 kn (24 km/h; 15 mph)  
>Submerged: 20 kn (37 kmh; 23 mph)

Range:

AIP endurance (est.): 6100 nautical miles (11297.2 km; 7060.75 miles) at 6.5 knots (12 km/h; 7.48 mp/h)[1]

Test depth:

900', 1000' crush

Complement:

65 (9 officers, 56 enlisted)

Sensors and  
>processing systems:<p>

ZPS-6F surface/low-level air search radar  
>HughesOki ZQQ-7 Sonar suite: 1× bow-array, 4× LF flank arrays and 1× Towed array sonar

Electronic warfare  
>and decoys:<p>

ZLR-3-6 ESM equipment  
>2× 3-inch underwater countermeasure launcher tubes for launching of Acoustic Device Countermeasures (ADCs)<p>

Armament:

6×HU-606 21 in (533 mm) torpedo tubes with 30 reloads for:  
>1.) Type 89 torpedoes<br>2.) UGM-84 Harpoon  
>Mines<p> 


	11. Act 3 Pt 2

**Part 2 – **_**"How did we get stuck with a couple dozen Titanics?"**_

**December 3****rd****, 2017 ATB  
>0500 hours<br>Kadena Airbase, Okinawa**

The base was once more alive with bustling troops, but unlike every other day, everyone was focused on a single task: preparing Second Prince Schneizel's aerial battleship, the HMS _Avalon_, for travel and combat.

Kanon was addressing the shipboard garrison, a full company of a hundred and twenty men.

"With the full force of the Japanese blockade facing us, combined with the unprecedented accuracy of the enemy intelligence as of late, we will undoubtedly be facing heavy resistance," the young man spoke grimly. "Now, before anything is said, the JSDF and the BPG are renowned for their ingenuity in warfare; they will undoubtedly attempt to board this ship, with an indeterminate chance of success. Despite any preconceived notions, we must all be prepared to repel boarders – regardless of the risk or lack thereof."

A private in the back raised his hand. "Sir, who of the enemy would even be capable of boarding a ship like this? I've never heard of a unit of the Japanese military with any kind of specialization like that."

"Glad you asked, Private," Kanon answered, tapping a holo-screen behind him. An emblem appeared on the screen – a bat with its wings spread, clutching a hissing snake. "The Special Boarding Unit of the Maritime Self-Defense Force, roughly equivalent to our Navy SEALs. As their name implies, the SBU is tasked with the interdiction and suppression of vessels which are deemed illegal, or the in the case of warfare, hostile. They usually operate and are inserted via Rigid-Hulled Inflatable Boats, or SH-60J maritime helicopters. However, as of late, they've begun adopting several SEAL tactics, such as straight submarine insertions, and even the occasional unconfirmed report of the usage of Portman Aquatic Knightmares. Basically, these boys are jacks of all trades, and we have to prepare accordingly." He swiped across the screen, which switched to a schematic of the ship. "Our primary defenses are sixteen Phalanx radar-operated CIWS cannons, capable of firing four thousand rounds a minute; these are supported by four Stinger missile platforms, which can be remotely or manually operated."

"One of the ship's primary assets is an eight-tube bay of twenty-four Tomahawk cruise missiles; however, these alone pale in comparison to our absolute ace in the hole – twenty prototype ArcLight missiles, capable of striking at any target within twenty-three hundred miles of the launch point." He shut down the projector, and slammed a fist into an open palm. "This ship cannot fall into the hands of the enemy. We have two primary objectives of equal importance: Protect Prince Schneizel, and in the event that this vessel is captured, we must destroy it."

"Keep in mind as well that the Japanese are known to employ electronic warfare devices, so radar may turn out to be unreliable. They also undoubtedly have countermeasures again thermo-tracker missiles such as Stingers. Therefore, all we can rely on in the end are our solid iron sights, and a nice full clip of ammunition. Hooah?"

"**Hooah!"** the troops replied enthusiastically.

Schneizel watched the briefing with something akin to pride, with a hint of amusement. It was quite warming to see Kanon bonding with the soldiers. His bodyguard offered a final salute, which the men firmly returned, before stepping out of the room to meet the prince.

"Are you sure that it will happen then, Schneizel?"

The prince was slightly perturbed at Kanon's usage of his first name; he only did so when his question was in regards to a subject that he was close to, and absolutely necessitated an answer. "I'm positive. The Japanese _will_ somehow succeed in boarding this vessel, and we will have to confront them."

**Same time  
>JMSDF Submarine Base, Yoron Jima<strong>

Takao was excited. Beyond that even – he was ecstatic. High Command had approved a temporary transfer back to his original post in the South Wind detachment, under the command of Tosen Morimoto, just in time for the SBU op to capture Schneizel.

Now, an hour away from their move to the intercept point, the reinstated Petty Officer 1st Class triple-checked his equipment and dry suit, as well as his trusty MP5MOD6. The rest of the unit had been apparently issued MP5A5 submachine guns, basically the next generation of the mass-production MP5. He had only acquired his through special privileges during his time with the SFG.

"You think you're still up to snuff with all the SBU action, senpai?" one of his subordinates taunted. He then barely blinked as his head snapped to the right, narrowly avoiding decapitation by a kunai.

"Try and ask that again when I'm holding Schneizel at gunpoint," Takao grinned back, yanking back the slide of his P226 and letting it snap back into place. He then proceeded up to a raised section of the loading area to brief the men. "Is everyone here?" Doing a mental headcount, he found all one hundred and twenty men present. "Good. I will now begin the briefing for the following operation."

"In two hours, at 0700 hours, Second Prince Schneizel el Britannia will attempt to reach the Japanese mainland from his current position at Kadena on Okinawa. While the majority of his fleet is naval-based and fully seaworthy, his flagship is a bit of an anomaly – an aerial battleship." Seeing the underwhelmed expressions of the men, he smirked and continued, "The regular units, along with the fourth, and unofficial fifth and sixth SBU platoons will be handling any boarding of the regular naval vessels. We, however, will be responsible for boarding that aerial battleship, and taking Prince Charming of the sky prisoner."

There was a unanimous cheer of approval and excitement as he pulled up a few photographs of said ship. "We've been able to ascertain several of the ship's defenses, which are primarily consistent of Stinger platforms, and an indeterminate number of Phalanx CIWS turrets – more than ten, less than thirty – which are meant to deter most aircraft. And despite the very thorough camouflaging," he used his finger to highlight a slight indentation on the top deck, "We've been able to identify vertical launch tubes: eight of them, with a once-again indeterminate number of missiles. We're assuming that they're only carrying Tomahawks, but rumors have surfaced about a new cruise missile program in the Britannian Navy, codenamed "ArcLight". If anyone is carrying these new missiles, then it'll probably be Schneizel.

"Our first priority is to disable these launch tubes, to prevent them from launching a last-ditch missile attack on any allied mainland battle groups or fortifications. After that, it's safe to say that we'll be encountering Royal Guardsmen aboard the craft, as well as a possibility of fighter jets and helicopters, if these two launch corridors below are any indication. The mission objectives will now be delivered in order of group assignment.

"First Platoon will be approaching from below; your delivery will be explained later on in private. Your objectives are to A) Seize the propulsion system housings; B) Secure crew quarters on the lower decks; and C) Secure the remaining areas of the lower decks, with the exception of the hangar facilities.

"Second Platoon will be entering through said facilities. You will be delivered via glider packs, and will A) Secure the primary hangar, and prevent the launch of any support aircraft; B) Secure any immediately outlying areas; C) Secure the middle decks; and D) Locate and neutralize weaponry facilities contained within, and link up with First Platoon personnel once all tasks are cleared.

"Third Platoon will be responsible for the upper decks, and will be delivered by either HAHO jump or helicopter, if we can fool their defenses. You will A) Clear the upper deck and disable any remaining defenses; B) Secure any outstanding facilities on the upper levels; and C) Secure the command deck and control facilities, hopefully taking Schneizel prisoner. If he is not among his staff, then double back to his quarters."

Takao took a deep breath once he finished, and accepted an airborne canteen. "Onboard garrison is estimated anywhere between one platoon and a small battalion. We are all that will be boarding. We will also be boarding in the order just described, so if First Platoon is capable of isolating individual decks, then please do so ASAP. We will be employing standard firearms, but also utilizing flashbangs and tear gas instead of standard fragmentation grenades. Damage to the vital systems of the ship is to be _minimized to the best of your ability_; we would like to be able to take it and replicate any worthwhile technology that isn't already ours. Rules of engagement are as follows: all armed personnel who attempt to resist are to be given one chance to surrender, and then incapacitated – definition is left to their decision." This elicited a few chuckles. "Unarmed personnel are to be subdued; High-Value Individuals, HVIs, are to be taken alive. Flight crews are to be taken alive. I'd like to say that no one among them is expendable, but I'm just not feeling that merciful at five in the morning." He finished off the canteen and tossed it back into the crowd. "Any questions?" None. "That's what I like to hear. First Platoon, move into the briefing room to receive your "boarding passes". Let's all try to make it back alive, eh gents?"

"_**Nippon Banzai!"**_

**0710 hours  
>Royal Britannian Naval Taskforce 301<strong>

"This is Kanon Maldini to all ships, anything to report?"

"_Nothing thus far, sir."_

"_Nothing on scopes, sir."_

"_HMS _Los Angeles_ is sending out a pair of ASW patrol planes, Blue Hound and Flying Fish. Sonobuoys will be dropped shortly." _

"Alright, keeps on your toes, ladies and gentlemen. We're still sixty miles out; anything could happen here."

"_Roger, Commander."_

Kanon stepped away from the comms station, making a slashing motion with his finger to the radio operator, who cut the transmission. Schneizel sat in the center of the room, atop a rather modest throne (if a throne could be described as such). The prince sat lazily, scanning the radar display on the main screen with a discreet attentiveness.

His bodyguard pulled a handheld radio from his belt. "Deck units, anything to report?"

"_Not a thing, commander; picture's clear as the blue sky." _

"Let's hope it stays that way straight to Tokyo," Kanon sighed, "Keep on your toes."

"_Wilko."_

"Your Highness, the fleet is being hailed by an approaching vessel!" the radar operators called out suddenly. "IFF is reading as the HMS _Portsmouth_, an Aegis cruiser."

"Wasn't the _Portsmouth_ with Halsey's 324th?" Schneizel asked in confusion.

"It was on the roster, sir, but we haven't heard a peep out of them since yesterday," the operator replied with a shrug. "Should I patch them through?"

The prince hunched over slightly and steepled his fingers. "… Yes, try and get them on screen." He was dissatisfied as the display shown with the words _**AUDIO ONLY**_.

"… _**I apologize for not being able to speak face-to-face, Your Highness, but we were damaged in our getaway,"**_ the new arrival spoke over a crackling connection.

"Identify yourself and elaborate."

"_**Ah, how rude of me! This is Lieutenant Commander Shawn Michaels of the Aegis Cruiser **_**Portsmouth**_**. We just managed to escape the harbor in the Philippines a few hours ago; the taskforce was struck at anchorage by a missile attack, which destroyed Admiral Halsey's flagship, and two others; a few hours later, the entire north side of the island came under attack from a massive fighter and bomber raid. We just managed to get away, but our radar and communications suites were damaged by an AGM." **_Schneizel motioned to the security station, which then directed the exterior cameras to the new vector; sure enough, the cruiser's comms mast was looking a bit worse for wear.

"I see… Michaels, where is your captain?"

"_**He was aboard the **_**Queen Victoria**_**, Halsey's ship, when it was hit by a sub-launched missile; I was forced to take command and get us out to sea while the local air detachment scrambled to cover our escape."**_

"Alright then. Did anyone else from your group manage to escape?"

"_**We're being trailed by the missile destroyers **_**Alaska **_**and **_**California**_**, as well as the amphibious assault ship **_**Longbow**_**. With your permission, Your Highness, we'd like to join your force and make the run."**_

"Very well. And tell me, did you manage to gather any sort of information pertaining to the naval situation in this sector before you left?"

"… _**Yes, Your Highness; security officers transferred several secure files aboard before our departure, but I'm afraid that their contents are a little too sensitive to be divulged over the airwaves, even a secure channel. If you'd like to view them, we could send up a helo, and I'll bring them to you personally." **_

"Do so quickly, Michaels; we could be attacked at any moment," Schneizel conceded, giving in to curiosity.

"_**Yes, Your Highness; we'll be up in fifteen minutes." **_The link cut off, and the prince slumped back in his seat, sighing disappointedly.

"What is our current speed and vector?" he requested tonelessly.

"The entire group is moving along at a steady twenty knots, Your Highness; we have to accommodate for all vessels, since differentiation would only serve to string us out and make us easier targets. Our current vector is from South-Southwest One-Nine-Zero, bearing North-Northeast Zero-One-Zero."

"Estimated time of arrival?"

"Undeterred is approximately two and a half hours."

"Oh joy…" Kanon groaned quietly. He then groaned louder as the radar officer reported in.

"Sir… I've got a ghost on the radar," the woman declared hesitantly.

"A ghost?" Schneizel quirked a brow, at which she flushed.

"An area within which no objects can be confirmed, natural or otherwise; I'm getting an area of interference covering a five-mile diameter, approximately ten miles from the edge of the fleet."

"Can we get a report from those ASW planes?" the radio operator took the initiative, already making the call to the amphibious assault ship _Thames_.

"… _This is the Anti-Submarine Warfare Plane Flying Fish, I'm dropping a sonobuoy in the indicated sector," _a male southern drawl replied after a short pause. _"… I'm picking up motion in the center of the area. Looks like we've got ourselves an enemy sub, ladies and germs."_ The line then went to static, and everyone scrambled to watch the cameras as a missile rose from out of the water and destroyed the plane.

"_This is Blue Hound, I'm moving in to replace Flying Fish,"_ the other pilot reported immediately. _"… Holy shit, he's surfacing! And he's launching something- HOT DAMN, WE'VE GOT ENEMY FAST-MOVERS!"_

Sure enough, a flight of four Russian Vogel UAVs launched straight out of the top of the larger-than-normal submarine, rising on small rockets as their wings folded out and took over. Every AA gun in the fleet was quickly trained on the four aircraft, which quickly disappeared into a massive cloud of dispersed chaff smoke.

"_Smart little bastards…" _a gunship pilot snorted as several choppers rose from carriers and assault ships to counter the drone attack craft; they were however unable to stop the quartet of AIM-9X missiles that lanced out from the edge of the cloud, striking several targets in the area – including the ASW aircraft Blue Hound, which fell to the sea in a roaring fireball.

"_Blue Hound is down, Blue Hound is down!"_ someone reported rhetorically.

"_Well, technology has officially failed us. Time to revert to our roots! SPRAY 'N PRAY, GENTLEMEN!" _And spray n' pray they did, as nearly every gun of every caliber less than 127mm that was capable of being manually operated opened up, sending out a veritable wall of lead that left a myriad of small, whispy holes in the redish-pink cloud.

While this occurred, the crew of the _Avalon_ could only watch as a second submarine surfaced on the opposite edge of the fleet, its forward VLS doors opening up and launching a string of a dozen anti-ship missiles high into the sky. One of them passed a little too close for comfort, and was immediately disintegrated by a short, concentrated burst of 20mm chain gun rounds. The rest, though, arched in mid-flight, and shot down at speeds in excess of Mach 2.

"Supersonic anti-ship missiles," Schneizel breathed in astonishment. "ArcLight is nothing compared to these!" His statement was punctuated by a symphony of explosions across the surface fleet, which resulted in the sinking of four ships, and heavy damage to five more. The Vogels chose that moment of new distraction to emerge, firing on the wounded and finishing them off before falling to the guns of the others. The taskforce now pressed on with twenty-five ships of their original thirty-four, counting the additional four from Group 324.

"… _**Your Highness, do you still want that information?"**_ Shawn's voice spoke out abruptly.

"Yes, it may have just become imperative to our survival here," the prince confirmed.

"_**Alright, we're heading up… Wait, what's that below your ship?"**_ Everyone's eyes widened in terror as the cameras swiveled frantically to point straight downwards; eight missiles rose from the waters directly beneath them, and the engineers were incapable of raising the Blaze Luminous before they slammed straight into the underbelly of the airship.

"… No explosions? What the hell was that?" Kanon called out in confusion.

"There's no way that _any_ Japanese submarine could _possibly_ be loaded with _EIGHT_ dud missiles," Schneizel muttered. "Lower decks, report!" They only received static. "Were the systems disabled by the impact?"

"Negative, sir," the communications office shook his head, "Those things came nowhere near any lines or system hubs. It has to be… JAMMING! WE'RE BEING JAMMED FROM INSIDE!"

Kanon jumped on it immediately. "Squads Eight and Nine, deploy to the lower decks and find out what the hell is going on down there!"

"_Roger!"_ A tense minute later, what little color remained in the crews' features drained as the sounds of gunfire filtered in over the system. _"We're… Hostile… Units… Estimate… Fifty!" _was all that filtered before the jammer blocked them out.

"Fuck," Kanon said simply, in a moment of uncharacteristic vulgarity. "Well, we said that they would board _somehow_…"

"_External jamming detected! Radar systems are inop!" _

"_What are those things in the sky?"_ Any more surprises and the crew would die of heart failure before the enemy even reached them. The _Avalon_, cruising along at two thousand feet, was just below what few clouds floated in the sunny blue sky; from one of said clouds at nearly eight thousand feet came a swarm of shadows, akin to angry hornets emerging from their besieged nest.

"Zoom in, damn it!"

The cameras locked onto the closest figure, and Schneizel could only wonder why he was still working with the Britannian military.

Sixty or seventy individuals kneeled on what appeared to be winged surf boards, the edges of which glowed a slight crimson; the prince recognized the soft glow as that of a Float system, or at least something akin to it. The gliders and their riders jinked and weaved through the air with a deadly grace, flying along at well over a hundred miles per hour; each of the boards had a half-hemispherical wind screen to cover the pilot's face and cause most of the air to pass over their body.

They were headed straight for _his_ ship.

"CIWS isn't responding, there's something going on with the electrical system!"

"It's been awhile since I shot skeet," Kanon said suddenly, reaching over next to the prince's throne and retrieving an M4 Super 90 combat shotgun. He retrieved his radio and gave orders as he strapped on body armor and web gear. "Fourth Platoon, deploy to the observation deck with MGs and area-effect weapons; we've got some pigeons looking to get shot."

"_Hooah!"_

The guards left the bridge, leaving the crew anxiously watching the cameras and trying to get through to the security teams on the lower decks. Another transmission cut through.

"_**Your Highness, are you alright? I saw the attack; I'm bringing reinforcements with me!"**_ Shawn declared, eliciting several light cheers from the crew.

"Yes Michaels, I'm fine. Your cooperation is much appreciated in this matter," Schneizel gave a sigh of relief. He switched one of the cameras, and saw an SH-60 helicopter rising from the deck of the _Portsmouth_, with two more circling the ship in a holding pattern.

'_Wait, _S_H-60s? I don't remember any naval units with those choppers deployed… In fact, I thought the SH-60 was a specifically… Japanese… Variant…!'_

By the time this terrifying thought crossed his mind, all scanner systems had gone to black and white fizzling static. "We're being electronically jammed! All internal and external communications are jammed!"

"Hangar personnel reports forty enemy Special Forces units in the main facility! They've locked down the middle decks, we're cut off!"

"Topside guards report that over thirty of those gliders were decoys with Sakuradite bombs! Seventy percent of our automated defenses have been disabled, and VLS tubes one through seven are heavily damaged! Number Eight is the only operational launch unit!"

"The choppers from the _Portsmouth _have just touched down! Hold on… Reports of gunfire on the top deck! _The soldiers are Japanese Special Boarding Units!_"

"I hate it when I'm right…" Schneizel groaned uncharacteristically. "We've been outmaneuvered, there's no way we're getting out of this one. Has there been any word from the lower or middle decks?"

"One engineer who escaped reported that the lower security teams were decimated, while there were an estimated ten casualties to the boarders. Hangar deck is completely under enemy control, and they've seized the secondary fire control stations. The upper decks are all that is left, and Commander Maldini's team is facing an estimated platoon of SBU troops."

"Do we have control over _any_ of the weapons systems?"

"We have the manual override to the VLS units, but there's only one operational tube!"

The prince's mind was reeling as he tried to decide the next course of action. He reached into a compartment at the side of his throne pulled out the most recent satellite maps of the Japanese battlefronts.

"… Fire a Tomahawk from the remaining tube to these coordinates," he scribbled down the string of numbers and handed them to the fire control officer, who cross-checked them with his own maps and balked.

"Your Highness…!" he tried to protest; only to be stopped by Schneizel's raised hand.

"At 0733 hours on December 3rd, 2017 ATB, Japanese Special Boarding Unit commandos seized control of the experimental aerial battleship _Avalon_, and used its one operational launch unit to fire a BGM-109 Tomahawk cruise missile at a target on mainland Japan, after which the system malfunctioned and was rendered inoperable. Several minutes later, this missile impacted the defensive fortifications on the Britannian defensive line "Siegfried", blowing a large hole in the wall and allowing for a breach by the Black Panzer Group and the Japan Ground Self-Defense Forces. Second Prince Schneizel el Britannia was unable to comment on this situation, as he was recently taken prisoner along with his flagship by the Japan Maritime Self-Defense Force." He looked to the dock officer, who was writing furiously to record the message, which was then handed off to a messenger.

Said messenger was miraculously able to bypass the enemy boarders and reach an external port, where the paper was shoved into a small remote-operated missive delivery unit, which was then ejected and delivered safely to the secondary command ship of Taskforce 301, the HMS _Saint Augustine_. During the period between its sending and delivery, the remaining Vertical Launch System silo screeched and ground its gears, opening the tube sufficiently to launch a single projectile, after which the firing port was blocked off by a Japanese combat engineering unit.

A little under twenty minutes later, said projectile impacted against the outer wall of the Siegfried line, completely obliterating a fifty-meter stretch of the fortifications, and allowing BPG assault units to penetrate and seize the position and emplacements.

Back with the Avalon, Kanon came flying bodily through the hatchway, having been tossed in by a balaclava-clad commando.

"As of this moment, the Britannian aerial battleship _Avalon_ is under the control of the Japan Maritime Self-Defense Force; all personnel are to cooperate or be subdued and taken to face trial for crimes against the sovereign nation of New Japan. Cooperation will be rewarded with amnesty, and a chance to be returned to your country once Tokyo is taken from Cornelia li Britannian and her forces."

Schneizel calmly stood and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender; any members of the crew not responsible for flying the ship did the same, and were flex-cuffed by two squads of SBU soldiers.

"So I take it that you would be Lieutenant Commander Shawn Michaels?" Schneizel asked wryly as he dropped to his knees and had his hands tied by the first commando. The man removed his mask, revealing evidently Japanese features, and grinned mischievously.

"Petty Officer First Class – also Captain, in the GSDF – Takao Yamashiro, at your service," he laughed.

"Well, Mister Yamashiro, I must congratulate you on being the most duplicitous son of a bitch I have ever met."

"I try, Your Highness. Now if you'll just move over next to your effeminate little friend there, you can watch as my senpai stealthily sinks your fleet, ship by ship."

**0740 hours  
>JDS <strong>_**Soryu**_**, 100 fathoms (600 feet) BSL**

The inside of the submarine was quiet; if not for the pinging of the radar and the grinding and clanking of the machinery, it would have been deathly silent.

"What's the status of the enemy flagship?" the Captain, Momochi Shinozaki, asked quietly.

"Petty Officer Yamashiro has taken control of the ship; the surface fleet is in disarray," his second, Commander Genji Koga replied just as quietly.

"Enemy strength?"

"Currently at twenty-one ships."

"Ours?"

"Four submarines and three surface vessels, the latter of which are currently in the mix with the enemy taskforce."

"Tag the IFFs on the friendly vessels and pick out the farthest enemy target in range," Momochi ordered. The small tactical display in front of him updated, with three blue icons appearing amongst the swarm of red. One of the red icons on the opposite side of the fleet from them started flashing, with a small wave radiating from it to signify a target lock. "Fuse for contact detonation and fire for effect."

A single Type-89X wire-guided torpedo launched out of Tube One, flying straight and slightly askew of the direct path towards its target; the projectile was cruising at fifty-five knots, and was currently in passive homing mode. Its path was nearly parallel with the fleet, albeit a bit skewed towards the side.

Then, at five nautical miles from the target, the torpedo swung hard and accelerated to sixty knots.

"Fish is swimming hot, straight and normal," the weapons officer declared impassively, "Three hundred seconds to impact."

This is the part of submarine warfare that everyone hated - the waiting. A torpedo wasn't a rocket; it could only glide through the water so fast with being detected or detonating prematurely.

But sure enough, five minutes later, the connection to the torpedo cut out – signaling impact.

"Dead on; one shot, one kill," the weapons officer declared smoothly, a hint of satisfaction evident.

"Excellent. Load all tubes and select the next three targets in Sector Alpha-Whiskey-Mike," Momochi ordered nonchalantly.

**0755  
>JDS <strong>_**Kenryu**_

Marcus Ishikawa lowered the periscope back into its housing and clapping his hands together. "Shinozaki-senpai has begun his assault; surface at fifteen miles from the west edge of the taskforce and fire missiles from bays one through eight."

During their seven years sitting mostly idle at Yoron, the _Kenryu_ had been upgraded with as much as could be acquired and fitted to a single ship; advanced sonar and radar, premium countermeasures… And the sub had even been converted from an Attack Submarine into a Ballistic Missile Sub.

With this reclassification came the addition of sixteen VLS tubes, eight added on either side of the middle section. The sub now carried a total of sixty-four Sub-Launched Intercontinental Ballistic Missiles (SLICBMs), which could be exchanged for conventional anti-ship missiles. In this case, the _Kenryu_ carried double its standard loadout of UGM-84 Harpoons; half for the horizontal tubes, and the others for the vertical launch silos.

Now, eight of these Harpoons flew straight and true skywards, passing above the clouds and nearly into low orbit, where they would fall unaided until reaching terminal velocity, at which point their propulsion systems would accelerate them several times past the speed of sound. It wasn't truly a supersonic missile, as Schneizel had presumed; it was really just a more durable warhead to handle the G-forces of such an operation.

A few minutes later, the missiles impacted directly on four ships, destroying them instantly – if not by the initial penetration, then definitely by the following detonation.

"All confirmed kills!" the weapons officer declared victoriously, eliciting actual cheers on this ship.

"Alright, let's drop to sixty fathoms and switch to conventional firing," Ishikawa ordered, settling back in a random chair.

**0800  
>JDS <strong>_**Unryu**_

"Drone Flight Golf-Juliet is outbound and engaging," the remote systems operator announced.

Like its sister sub, the _Unryu_ had been majorly idle, and therefore received improvements of its own. In addition to the standard sonar and countermeasures package, the vessel had been outfitted with six vertical launching silos – similar in design to the missile VLS units, but for a different purpose entirely.

Aerial drones.

Yes, the recently-acquired Vogel UAVs had been put to use by the submarines just as well. Granted, the sub was fairly vulnerable when it had to surface to launch the aircraft – but they generally operated outside of the central zone of engagement.

One of the remote operators gave a whoop of joy as something on his screen lit up. "Direct hit on enemy carrier, she's going down!"

The other operators cheered in agreement, even as three more screens lit up in similar manners, while a fifth cut to static.

"Golf-India-Charlie has gone down; however, I managed to hit the _Dorsetshire _on the way down," another man sighed, setting his headset on his station and heading for the small mess deck.

"Well this is actually kind of boring," Captain Masaharu Konbei sighed disappointedly. "I would've expected a bigger fight."

"Seems like Schneizel's really not into this whole shindig," his Britannian Executive Officer (XO) commented idly, currently playing a game of solitaire (with real cards) at his station.

"Anyone up for a game of Drinko next?"

"Nobody on this tub _knows_ Drinko, Peter," his partner, a Britannian-Russian from the Duchy of Alaska, groaned dramatically, "Much less wants to play it in the middle of a damned sea battle. Plus, all anybody drinks around here is that piss-water Sake; can't handle hard liquor like vodka or whiskey."

"I'm sorely tempted to shoot you for dissing Sake," Konbei grunted, "But I'm too friggin' bored." He had picked up several mannerisms of the other nationalities from his mixed crew; but he still liked his Sake. For now, the forty year-old captain settled for pulling up his laptop and linking into the ship's systems; he opened up a Britannian first-person shooter and occupied himself for the next half-hour or so.

**0815 hours  
>JDS <strong>_**Hakuryu**_

Tosen Morimoto aboard the _Hakuryu_ was directing an operation slightly different from his companions.

In comparison to the rest of the Japanese submarine fleet, his sub had become more of an underwater troopship. All but two of the VLS units had been removed to make space for an extension on the general quarters and mess decks, and the torpedo stock had been cut down to four tubes at five reloads apiece, twenty-four projectiles total. The entire superstructure had been expanded outwards in all directions, with an additional ten feet to the total radius, and the Britannian SEAL delivery system had become a permanent fixture.

All in all, the _Hakuryu_ was a submersible headquarters for the SBU in the Pacific. Right now, Morimoto was briefing the rookie 6th Platoon on their raid on the Britannian aircraft carrier HMS _King George III_.

"This vessel is now the flagship of this dying fleet, and is the headquarters of an Admiral and a Major General, the commanders of what was supposed to be the relief force," Tosen started, pulling up a general-knowledge schematic of the carrier's decks and general layout. "The _King George_ is manned by a crew of approximately 4,700 assorted sailors, mechanics, martials, cooks, etcetera – each man and woman on this ship is trained in some form of combat. Also, a number of the crew has already been injured, and thusly replaced by _active_ combat personnel from their temporary garrison from the transport planes and ships. Therefore, carrying out the task of seizing this ship alone is summarily _impossible_."

By now, the near-totally green (new) men before him were tossing their supreme commander some extremely disconcerted looks.

"_BUT!_" they perked up at the contradiction, "We are not alone in this. Because of an extreme rate of "accidents" and desertion among his ranks on Okinawa, Schneizel was forced to bolster his forces with some of the "friendly locals" – Honorary Britannians. Theoretically, with a single word, we could command this tub." The men were now looking optimistic.

"There's another 'but'," he threw out to the bipolar commandos, "Most of ours were stationed to grunt work – mess deck, cargo hold, and systems monitoring. Also, the 'theoretical' was more like a 'slim to none', since the ratio of Japanese to Britannia on the ship is still barely five to one, and these people have received sub-standard training. We're looking at fighting alongside a mass of Asiatic cannon fodder."

"Just get to the plan, dammit!" one of the men in the back called out.

"Alright, alright," Tosen conceded, smirking amusedly to himself. "The few experienced friendlies in the electrical centers are going to seal off the individual sectors and give you a path of least resistance to the bridge and/or the commanders' location(s). Once both of them are secured and extracted, you'll make the announcement to the trapped soldiers and either get them to surrender, or execute them if they attempt to resist."

Several of the _truly_ green soldiers paled slightly at the latter idea.

The briefing was cut as an officer entered the compartment with a video commlink in his hand. "Sir, Petty Officer Yamashiro for you from the _Avalon_." He handed it off and left as Tosen placed the device on the small attaché beneath the projector.

The image that came up was Takao Yamashiro, decked out in full SBU regalia, with a Britannian royal cloak around his shoulders; he was sitting back comfortably in a throne, presumably Schneizel's, and had a shit-eating grin on his face. The prince himself was leaning on the wall behind and to the side of the throne, hands flex-cuffed in front of him, and admirably trying to maintain an impassive façade in this situation.

Takao had an officer's brimmed cap perched on his head, shadowing his eyes, which seemed to glow with just a slightly evil green light. "Ah, tenderizing the fresh meat before sending it to the wolves?" the NCO's grin widened maliciously.

"Everyone, this is my first and best student, Petty Officer First Class Takao Yamashiro," Morimoto introduced, barely hiding his amusement at the 'fresh meat's' terrified and awed expressions. Most of them were between eighteen and twenty-five, so it was understandable.

"Only Petty Officer for the day, actually," Takao corrected casually, leaning forward and steepling his fingers in front of his face. "After that, I'm once more Captain Yamashiro of the Ground Self-Defense Force, the indisputable second-in-command to Major General Ishitora Misato, whom is the most likely man to replace Katase once the old codger finally kicks the bucket." The straight-laced youth gawked at his blatant disrespect for the army's supreme commander.

"Did you have something to report, or did you only call to rub your success in our faces?" Tosen inquired, barely restraining laughter at the situation.

"Oh, just calling to say that I've got Schneizel here, I've captured his airship, and I'm currently heading back to Kyoto to drop him off. And then I'll probably just take the ship and sell it off to the BPG to make some extra cash; they probably have more use for it than us," the man replied airily, tossing his Rising Sun-emblazoned cap out of the shot. "Also, we've got some sympathizers among the crew, in case you need some support; the rest just surrendered, since it looks like no one here really wanted to leave Okinawa in the first place. I'm contemplating taking pity and detouring back there, actually; we could probably run on a skeleton crew and a few of 'His Highness's' technicians."

"Do what you will," Tosen said nonchalantly. "You wouldn't happen to be carrying any WMDs onboard, would you?"

"Fifty-one Tomahawks, ten of which are carrying W-80 nuclear warheads," he ticked them off on his fingers, "And twelve of their prototype long-range ArcLight missiles." The captain perked up.

"ArcLight? As in, four thousand mile effective radius ArcLight?" Tosen inquired excitedly.

"Aye aye, Cap'n," Takao replied lazily.

"… Can I have those?"

"Do you have room?"

"I'll probably have a lot of free space in the sub as soon as these guys are gone…" Tosen whispered, although intentionally loudly. The rookies paled substantially.

"Uh-huh… Nah, I think I'll pass them off to the artillery division stationed in Mie," Takao decided, at which his superior deflated.

"Takao, my dearest student! I ask you one favor after you not once speak or write to me for _seven years_, and you so easily DENY me?" Tosen wept dramatically.

"Yes."

"Damn you to hell."

"Got that five times in as many minutes from a Britannian Ranger fireteam that I butchered with a wakizashi and a pair of Glocks at Narita two months ago," Takao commented idly, carelessly even. "Even got a present from one of them," he took out Ian's KA-BAR, which was apparently perpetually stained crimson; even the rookies in the back of the compartment turned whiter than sheets at the bloody staining on the blade, even so far as it seemed to have etched into the weapons-grade steel. Disconcerting was an understatement. "But of course, that's beside the point. Have fun, kiddies! Don't go getting yourselves killed now! Even though I _really_ don't like the idea of more than the original four platoons…"

With that slightly cross statement, the communication cut out. The compartment was totally still for a long moment before Tosen clapped his hands.

"Okay! Back to the briefing!"

**1000 hours  
>West Siegfried Line, Gunma-Shinjuku Border<strong>

"I'm definitely not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, _but_…" Lelouch stared at the massive gap where a part of the wall used to be, "… Where exactly did the Tomahawk come from?"

"Southern ocean, sir," an intelligence officer answered evenly. "Joint reports indicate that the SBU and MSDF hit Schneizel's pitch head-on; knocked it straight out of the park. Captured a prototype aerial battleship, which is where the missile apparently originated."

"Ah," he nodded in comprehension. "What's the status of the rest of the line?"

"Do you want military jargon or civvie-speak?"

"Give it to me civvie, I'm kind of out of it."

"The line that crossed Tochigi and Ibaraki just went down; Dmitri came from behind just as the other side hit the wall hard and fast, and they fucked 'em up six ways to Sunday."

"Fun, fun," Lelouch replied idly, tossing a pistol up and catching it by the barrel repeatedly. "How long until we're dancing through the streets of Tokyo?" he asked as he plopped down in the driver's seat of the GAZ.

The officer climbed into the passenger's side. "Well, Cornelia's force is still over eighty thousand strong, so your estimate was pretty much spot-on; we'll be chasing 'em back into the Pacific by New Years. Chances are, we're all just going to be sitting back and sending people out to get killed until the ranks thin on the other side; one last show in Tokyo, and we can all go home and watch as the rest of the world ransacks mainland Britannia."

"I need to remember to distribute blanks to the front lines for the next two weeks," Lelouch made a personal note. "And send some to Cornelia, since she probably doesn't hang onto anything that isn't lethal." He chuckled a bit before his expression turned stone cold. "What word from Indochina?"

"With Schneizel soon to be in our custody, the Toromo Agency had surrendered; Cambodia is under our jurisdiction until the Chinese start barking at us for their territory back, so we have at least until Britannia falls."

"That timeframe should be sufficient," Lelouch nodded in agreement. "We'll confiscate the _Avalon_ and have it moved into the Toromo facilities to begin development and application; although if my suspicions are correct, they might have the research on file already."

"You think that the Agency is responsible for the Float Systems?" the spook asked incredulously.

"Cambodia's been in Schneizel's pocket for _six years_ – if they weren't directly in contact with the processing and production, then they should at least have records of the project."

"Point taken."

"So, we've stormed the outer defenses; we've got a few more trenches to go and then we'll be pounding at the gates. What should we do in the meantime?"

"What else do we do? We do military stuff. BPG/JSDF Joint Military Exercises, anyone?"

**1200 hours  
>Viceroy's Office, Government Bureau<strong>

"He did it, I just _know_ it," Cornelia growled as she watched the UAV footage of the Siegfried Line collapsing.

"Who did what, Your Highness?" Darlton raised a brow curiously from beside her.

"_SCHNEIZEL!_" she roared back venomously, eliciting a flinch from the aged general. "He fired off the missile before he was captured so that he could screw me over and get off scot-free!"

"That seems highly unlikely, Your Highness," Darlton deadpanned. "What would he have to gain from disrupting _our_ defenses?"

"He's been practically _vacationing _at Okinawa for two months now! He's probably been subverted by some Eleven chambermaid-turned-bedwarmer!"

"_I thought that we had agreed on using _Japanese_, Cornelia," _Lelouch's image appeared on her desk's inbuilt monitor.

"YOU!"

"_Yes, me. Got anything a bit more eloquent?"_

"WHAT- WHO- HOW-?" The Vicerene was stumbling over one confused question after another.

"_Called to give you a heads-up that I'll be dropping by sometime soon, to give you the last parts of my little prophesy… And to deliver a gift, since I've made a solemn vow that I won't be seeing Euphie until I kick your ass out of Japan,"_ the young man replied nonchalantly. _"Oh, and you should upgrade your system security. Linex? _Really_? My technicians have taken that as a personal insult." _

"Point taken," Andreas nodded from the side, writing himself a note to contact IT about the issue. He clammed up as the seething princess turned her death-glare to him for a moment, before snapping back to the screen.

"And _how_ exactly are you supposed to get in here? No single man can infiltrate Tokyo at this time, much less the _Government Bureau_." Her tone had taken on a smug inflection.

"_You'll find out when I'm _once again_ sitting on your desk or in your garden within the next week," _Lelouch gave her an infuriating smirk as the transmission cut out.

"ARGH!" Cornelia shouted in frustration, "I HATE that little bastard!"

"You hate the fact that he's beating you in a war _and_ courting your younger sister," Darlton corrected from his spot next to the balcony doors. "Were the circumstances different, I'm sure he probably would've fit right in with us."

"No… There's something other than the tactics he's displayed so far. Something far more… Cunning – devious even. Official records say that he was an independent assassin before and even while taking over the East Asian BPG offices, right? Pull up the incident reports that those OSI boys found for us," she ordered sternly. Andreas sighed and stepped forward, plugging a PDA into a port on the desk.

"Whatever happened to that Robinson fellow of those two, anyways?" he inquired genuinely. Cornelia froze, with a slight bit of guilt; despite all of the suspicion she had held over those two when they had all first met, they had been genuinely helpful. "I… I'm not quite sure. I haven't heard from them since Narita. I'll have to contact the local branch and ask about a status update."

"Right…" As much as Andreas disliked spooks like the OSI, the pair had been fairly easy to handle; he had shared a drink with them at one point as well, and he could now say that he was honestly concerned. "Here's the files; first report is from Mogadishu, Somalia, in 2015." The image was of presumably locals rioting in the streets, chasing out an entire battalion of Britannian soldiers with nothing automatic weapons and "Technicals", the official designation of the East Africana guerilla-produced civilian pickups with machine guns mounted on swivel posts in the beds. Although their RPGs had also played quite a bit of havoc with Army and Air Force alike; two UH-60 Blackhawks had been lost in the incident, as well as eighteen Delta operators and a company's worth of Army Rangers; several dozen Sutherlands and older Glasgows had been damaged and outright destroyed, but Knightmares were really on the back burner for anything but support roles and escort nowadays.

"A very influential local warlord, Ali-Mohammad Adid, was shot once in the head by what appeared to be a Britannian soldier, who proceeded to fire into a crowd of civilians with a fireteam that appeared from the background. The unknowns retreated back to the Britannian Embassy in the city, and were admitted into the compound like nothing happened. The embassy was razed soon afterwards by angry militia and armed locals, under the orders of the deceased's brother, Mohammad Farrah Adid.

"Within twenty-four hours, Britannians forces in Somalia had either been pushed out to sea or into the neighboring countries – the latter were usually wiped out by more angry locals from _those_ countries. Although the BPG never took responsibility for the hit, or were even implicated, one of their known assassins – one Lelouch Lamperouge, as luck may have it – was spotted in a Britannian military uniform when the recovered surveillance data was analyzed. He seemed to recognize that we knew it was him, since he waved and smiled at the camera without firing a shot."

"So _he_ is the reason why North African operations were set back seven months," Cornelia growled in realization.

"Bingo," Andreas replied nonchalantly. "Next incident – Paris, December of 2015. French capitol building is seized by a terrorist group calling themselves the "Knights of the Round," and using Britannian military weaponry. The building is held under terrorist control for three days and two nights, until the French Special Forces, in cooperation with a foreign unit of the German GSG-9, eliminated the bulk of the terrorists. Their leader fired a single shot the entire time he was in charge; his shot killed the French Secretary of Defense. Information dredged up later by the government pegged the "terrorists" as a South Britannian PMC, hired by someone in the Britannian Parliament to stir things up a bit to give the Army an opening to launch an invasion. Although war wasn't officially declared until just before this shit storm we're in here started, we were pulling sabotage strikes and raids on each other for months after the incident."

"Did we really do it?" the princess asked with a bit of confusion.

"Nope; our own investigation indicated that the contract request that was sent had a forged signature of a member that we had already executed for treason, and the money along with it was from a completely untraceable account somewhere in the territory of Mexico. Also, the "leader" apparently wasn't on the PMC's payroll, either; Special Forces raided their headquarters and got a complete roster of the contract. It all matched up, except that after octuplet-checking the records and footage, their reports were one man short. The Department of Defense soon after received a letter, taunting us for our idiocy, which was worded quite eloquently – in German, and signed with an alias that was later connected to Lelouch Lamperouge. The letter was somehow destroyed, though, along with all copies, so we couldn't bring it to the French even if we wanted to."

"He's a sly little fucker, alright…"

"It gets better," Darlton smirked a bit – he actually had to admire the kid for this kind of high-profile shit. "Hong Kong, Chinese New Year, 2016; Panamanian freighter was detained and searched by port authorities, who uncovered a cache of several million Britannian pounds' worth of _our_ assorted small arms and anti-tank and Knightmare weaponry, which upon interrogation of the cargo supervisor was revealed to be supposedly delivered to local insurgents in order to stage an uprising along the east coast and soften it up for a Britannian invasion; coincidentally, we actually _were_ planning to deliver a few special operatives via submarine and civilian ships in the approximate timeframe; but nowhere near enough for an invasion. Nevertheless, defenses were tightened, and the operators were all caught before they could make it to their assigned posts."

"So all of his past operations have just been screwing with us," Cornelia summarized.

"Yep; the weapons were all actually cheap, inoperable reproductions, manufactured by H&K for an anonymous buyer, who was apparently connected to some of their BPG-associated supervisors. We only found this out a few months ago, while we actually still had some semblance of control over Germany," Darlton wrapped it up, unplugging the PDA and sliding it back into his pocket. "Basically, this kid's just as good a ruthless killer and sly dealer as he is a solid commander."

"… I need to tell Euphie," the Vicerene suddenly jumped up, speed-walking for the door.

"She already knows!" Andreas called out just as she left the room; her head popped back through the doorway incredulously.

"WHAT?"

"Yeah, she actually requested all of this information herself about the time we were at Narita," he shrugged. "Looks like she knows enough to do her research and not fall blindly in love."

"… I'm still going to have a talk with her about this," Cornelia grumbled.

"I'd be worried for your mental health if you didn't."

"You're becoming more and more like Guilford used to be every day, you know that Darlton?"

"Someone needs to fill his shoes, and _I_ certainly wasn't the _only_ hard-ass general in the army," Andreas shrugged.

**1400 hours  
>JASDF Kyoto Airbase<strong>

The Air Self-Defense Force could only stare in awe as the massive white, gold and blue flying battleship descended over the central tarmac, with several SBU soldiers dropping from the lower hangar bay to help secure the ship. Ishitora waited inside the main aerodrome complex, and motioned for his Komatsu's driver to move in as the boarding ramp hit the deck.

The LAV rolled up into the respectably large hangar deck, where Takao was perched on a stack of crates, looking down upon the assembly of captured scientists and technicians. They were reporting one by one to a panel of the SDF's own specialists, who were recording their specialized fields and then dismissing them to different areas for further analysis and interrogation by their Japanese counterparts.

The entire line was down to half a dozen as the jeep came to a stop.

"If you're about to say that you burned your paperwork, you'dbetter not get out of that car!" Takao called out as Ishitora exited the vehicle.

"I didn't, I didn't…" the general sighed disappointedly. "They had Ken watching me in your stead. Little bastard was _your_ second, wasn't he?"

"If he took my position, then he still is," the Captain grinned proudly. "Glad to see that I trained him so well!"

"I'd have you executed if only for making me work," Ishitora grumbled, flexing his fingers, "I was signing those damned requisition forms all fucking morning while you were off shooting people!"

"I only shot seven people, for your information."

"You still got to shoot people! I haven't shot anyone since Narita!" the superior officer whined childishly. "At least I managed to shoot a text to R&D about my Tank-Harken idea…"

One of the scientists remained perked up at the mention. "Oh, please!" the man scoffed, "Those boorish, bulky things carrying _Slash Harkens_? That'd be like putting a mono-directional machine gun on a rock and trying to use it to stop an advancing army."

"Lloyd, keep _quiet_!" A young blue-haired woman beside him cuffed his ear, "We're completely surrounded by the enemy, and there is absolutely _nothing_ stopping them from _killing you!_"

"Only me?" the white-haired man smirked, "And what about you, Cecile?"

"I'd use your body as a shield," the woman, Cecile, gave a deceptively-cheerful smile.

"… I like you two," Ishitora declared suddenly, advancing on the pair. He pressed in close and moved his face a nose length from Lloyd's, examining him. He then switched to Cecile, who flushed and backed away slightly. He was then grabbed by the collar and jerked backwards by Takao.

"Stare at the man all you want, but you're making the lady uncomfortable," he admonished firmly, at which the general pouted childishly. "Names, ranks and fields of specialization?"

"Lloyd Asplund, chief engineer of Prince Schneizel's Project Camelot team," Llyod greeted cheerily. "This young thing here is Cecile Croomy, my assistant."

"AND second-in-direction of the project," Cecile added, giving his shoulder a "light" shove.

"Project Camelot…" Takao mulled over the name, pulling out his phone and sorting through his numerous e-mails. "Ah, yes! Intelligence report from Lelouch. Knightmare development, was it? More mechanized cannon fodder for the "glorious" legions of Britannia?"

Lloyd's expression was completely affronted. He made several overly-dramatic scoffing noises and then fixed Takao with a creepy stare. "Good sir, the Lancelot is _far more _than just some scrap metal Sutherland for you to shoot at," he declared haughtily, "It is the closest thing to a complete man-machine interface that this world has ever _seen_!"

"I don't give two shits if you could make the damned thing space-worthy," Takao snapped, "We're fighting a conventional war, _without_ Britannia's blasted "miracle machines". Give me an anti-tank rifle or a rocket launcher and fifteen minutes to find a spot, and just about any soldier of mine can kill it – case closed," he added firmly as Lloyd opened his mouth his protest.

Cecile was frowning slightly from beside her boss at the captain's harsh attitude, but then thought about what he must have seen machines such as Knightmares do to the people of his country.

"Knightmares no longer hold any place in war," Takao continued, "Because if a man isn't willing to go and fight on a field of battle, face-to-face against his enemies, then he clearly isn't worthy to be representing his country in the first place. We will have none, and we shall crush our enemies in their own scrap coffins." He then shrugged off his jacket bearing the MSDF insignias, and accepted his worn GSDF coat, at the same time unsheathing his KA-BAR and examining the blade. "We will fight, and we will bleed, and a number of us will die. But we will do it honorably, for the restoration of our country." With this final declaration, he sheathed the blade, executed a sharp about-face and marched out, immediately being swarmed by a staff entourage that was presumably delegated from Ishitora.

The general in question sighed. "Forgive my companion… He bears strong feelings on this matter. He was but seventeen when his home, his family, and his friends were cut down mercilessly by Glasgows."

"There's _always_ a sob story…" Lloyd rolled his eyes, only to retrieve a punch to the head from Cecile that would've knocked out any normal man.

"Two reasons: one, that was extremely insensitive; and two, _they're still holding guns, you idiot!_"

"Yes, well," Ishitora now spoke wryly, "I suppose I'll have to interview the two of you for myself; get in the car." Lloyd and Cecile complied, albeit with varying levels of uncertainty. As the latter climbed into the vehicle, she turned and glimpsed Takao standing outside, supervising operations revolving around the _Avalon_. He caught her gaze, and offered an unsettlingly blank stare in return. The blue-haired woman shuddered and slammed the door shut as the driver reversed out of the hangar complex, just as a trio of CH-47 Chinook helicopters landed on the pads outside; Everyone was taken by surprise as the first exploded, and the other two disembarked a small company of Britannian Delta commandos.

"Well this is unexpected," Lloyd offered cheerily; Ishitora whipped out a pistol before the man could blink, and had it pressed to his forehead.

"Where is the tracker?" he demanded calmly.

"Tracker? I know nothing of this tracker of which you speak," the scientist replied calmly. His eyes then whipped to the side, at which point he threw himself and Cecile to the seats, narrowly avoiding the hail of gunfire that shattered the window.

"You really don't understand the gravity of this situation, do you?" the general asked quietly. "The _Avalon_ lead the choppers to this location, but with that beacon on you, they've orders to silence you. You think that anyone in the Britannian military is just going to let Schneizel's top scientists walk off with us is they have the option to deny us?"

Cecile looked at her boss, panic visible in her eyes. "Lloyd… I don't want to die!" she whispered in terror. "If we can live, then _I want to live!_"

Lloyd was glancing at his lap with a look of betrayal. "Those _bastards…_" he hissed.

"And now they have this vehicle marked," Ishitora continued nonchalantly. "Our only chance before they call in a naval air strike is for you to shut off that beacon so that we can escape into the tunnel network."

Lloyd, after one final moment of hesitation, took a small blinking disk out of his pocket, along with a compact Glock 21. The driver looked and started reaching for his machine pistol, but was stopped by Ishitora, who watched as the scientist tossed the device out the window, and shot it several times in the air. He then stood and moved partway out of the window, leaning on the car as he fired several rounds into an advancing crowd of Britannian commandos.

"Well, that's good enough for me," the general commented, climbing over the seat and standing up to take control of the roof-mounted swiveling .50 caliber machine gun.

Cecile was curled up on the floor of the vehicle, behind the driver's seat, clutching her head – desperately trying to block out the gunfire all around her.

"_ISHITORA!"_ a voice crackled loudly over the radio stored on the dashboard, _"STOP THE FUCKING CAR AND LET US IN!"_

The driver calmly slammed on the brakes and swerved hard, tossing the other occupants forward; Lloyd just barely managed to avoid being thrown from her perch on the door. All heads snapped to the back as the trunk hatch opened, and three SDF soldiers threw themselves into the back.

"**DRIVE!**" Takao shouted.

"How the hell did you catch up to us?" Ishitora demanded from the MG.

"The Mega Cruiser I was in behind you got shot to hell!" the captain shouted back, removing the rear window pane and allowing himself and his two comrades to shove their rifles out and fire at a pursuing Humvee. "And how the hell did these guys all get here?"

"Air drops!" the driver called back, swerving hard left and right to dodge shots from an Apache gunship. "We had to disable the air defenses temporarily, or else that fancy flying battleship you idiots flew in on would've been blown to several million very tiny pieces!"

"So who forgot to turn them back ON?"

"Probably some triple-agent Honorary Britannian! A lot of them have families that were taken hostage by the military in order to ensure their loyalty to Britannia, and someone probably caved."

"One man…" Takao shook his head in amazement, "One man can cause all of this."

"One man was responsible for giving Britannia their current homeland, it's not that surpri- FUCK!" one of the riflemen in the rear tumbled backwards, clutching his bleeding shoulder, "MEDIC!"

"Is anyone here even remotely trained in medicine?"

"Cecile!" Lloyd ducked his head back in, "Get off the floor and save our new employers!"

"But-!" Cecile choked back in shock.

"IF THESE PEOPLE DIE, THEN SO DO WE! NOW **GET UP AND SAVE THAT MAN!"**

The woman was taken aback; in the many years that she and Lloyd had worked together, he had never honestly yelled at her before. She tentatively glanced over the seat at the downed man, and turned white as a sheet; she fell back into her fetal position, her body wracked with sobs.

"Shit!" Lloyd cursed, "CECILE! This is SO not the time!"

Through her sobs, the blue-haired woman managed to choke out, "I-I'm hemophobic! I-I j-just can't s-stand the sight of B-BLOOD! I-it's why I dropped out of m-medicine and took up robotics!"

Takao slammed his head against the side panel in frustration. "This is NOT in my job description! I was specifically told by my recruiter that EVERYONE I would work with was FINE with blood!"

"I didn't tell you that!" Ishitora snapped back in exasperation, "Now do something to calm her down and get her to save Shin!"

"I haven't had to calm a woman down since the Hammelburg Incident, goddammit! And I was completely unsuccessful, even then!"

Ishitora ducked from his perch and grabbed Takao by the collar, shaking him violently as he roared, "**YOU WILL FOLLOW MY ORDERS AND YOU WILL FOLLOW THEM **_**TO THE LETTER! **_**DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?" **

The captain was _substantially_ taken aback, but shouted back a "SIR YES SIR!" before vaulting over the seats; once he was crouched low of Cecile's sobbing, prone form, he was once again struck by the gravity of the task ahead. "Dammit... Onee-chan was always the gentle one," he muttered sadly. He placed a hand on the woman's shoulder and spoke softly, "Cecile? Cecile, listen to me." Her sobs subsided slightly as she glanced up at him, her eyes still brimming with tears. Takao internally cringed, but carried on strongly, "I'm not going to force you to do anything. I _can't_ force you to do anything. But you just need to know that if this man dies, he will have died saving your life – and despite being able to do so, you did not save him." Even as she quivered further, he carried on boldly.

"You are a competent and capable woman, Cecile. We've been seeking you out for months, and it was pure coincidence that you were aboard the _Avalon_. We're prepared to offer you anything that you can possibly seek materially, but at this very moment – my men are giving their lives for you. Not just because it is their duty, but because you are _innocent_. And I know that very few people can stand by and watch good men die without doing a damned thing about it."

"So I'm asking you, Cecile Croomy – as a fellow soldier and a good person – and I'm asking you as a commanding officer having to watch his men die… Please, save him!" Takao was really getting into this thing, even though inside, he was thoroughly disgusted with having to pull a guilt trip like this. "Save him for his country! For his comrades, and his family! … And I beg of you, save him for me."

Cecile… Was honestly, genuinely moved. Even though she could tell it was a ploy, she could see a genuine hint of desperation in his eyes – which sharpened as the man in the back cried out in pain, clutching his shoulder desperately. The second man had hit the deck, and had used the soldier's sleeve as a tourniquet; but it was obviously a temporary measure, to stem the massive blood rush that would soon kill him.

It was at that moment that Cecile managed to swallow her fears, even as yet another volley of bullets crashed through the windows, whereupon Ishitora replied by filling the attacker with hot lead. "Somebody get me a first aid kit!" she ordered quietly, shakily pulling herself over the seat. Takao allowed himself a soft smile as he ducked low, reaching around the front passenger's seat to retrieve the kit from beneath the paneling.

A high-power sniper round then pierced through the door, slamming into the dash just in front of Takao's face; shrapnel flew, and he gave a startled and pained cry as three pieces passed over and through his face – one leaving a deep gash across his upper right cheek, another implanting itself just below his left eye, and the third scratching his cornea of the same eye. "SONOVABITCH!" he swore loudly, squeezing his injured eye shut – further agitating the wound – and groping around for the tin box. He finally located the handle, and tossed the kit back before staggering forward and smashing his head into the reinforced interior. "Kami motherfucking _DAMMIT!_"

"Takao!" Cecile cried out in concern.

"I'm fine!" he snapped back, "It's just a flesh wound! Fix _him_!"

The scientist was about to protest, but withheld it and looked back down to her current patient. She opened up the kit and sifted through its contents, whilst addressing the soldier. "There's no anesthetic in the kit, so you're going to have to tough it out and stay with me, okay?" she said softly. The man nodded, his eyes squeezed tightly shut while still clutching the wound location. "I'm going to sow it up and then wrap it tight. When I say, you need to slide the bandage down slightly and expose the gash, okay?" Another nod.

She blanched at the amount of blood that had soaked the makeshift tourniquet, but looked at the injured Takao in front and shook it off with determination. She threaded the needle and looked down. "Alright, now just take it slowly…" He nodded weakly and slid it down, biting his lip hard as it dragged over. Cecile placed the needle on the skin, and with a deep breath, pushed it through. The man gave a slight whimper, but otherwise remained conscious and coherent. She slowly started stitching up the wound, a little bit staggered but otherwise cleanly. When she reached the point where the bullet was stopped at the bone, she pulled out a pair of tweezers. "I'm going to have to remove the bullet now. Do you want something to bite down on?" He gave a weak nod.

The second rifleman, who had resumed firing out of the back window as the car made its way out of the base and onto an open highway, caught one of his empty shell casings as it was ejected. He let it cool for a second, and tossed it to Cecile. "Shin, bite the bullet!" he called back as his rifle began chattering once more. Cecile raised the brass casing and lowered it slowly over his mouth, whereupon he unclenched his teeth just enough to clamp back down on the closed end tightly. The brass crushed easily, but remained otherwise intact; he didn't have enough pressure to bite through it.

She probed around in the wound gently, occasionally eliciting a slight twitch. Once the prongs finally clamped into the end of the squashed 5.56mm round, she worked it out slowly and then released it with a slight jerk. Placing the bullet into the open med kit, she finished stitching up the wound and gave a warm smile.

"You did great, Shin," she told him softly. The young man, barely twenty-five, offered a weak smile and then finally allowed himself to fall unconscious. Cecile wiped away any lingering blood and then wrapped it in gauze, just tight enough to soak up anything that might leak out, and staunch any bursts should a stitch pop.

Takao, currently clenching a piece of rubber torn from the butt stock of a rifle tightly between his teeth, offered her a congratulatory grin. When a rocket impacted nearby with enough force to throw everyone not sitting off of their feet, his features twisted into an annoyed scowl, and he stuck his head out the window.

"Goddammit Ishitora, how long does it take for a fifty cal to scare off _ONE FUCKING GUNSHIP?_"

"This motherfucker refuses to go down and _DIE!_" the general shouted back in agitation, letting off another long burst; he missed by a mile.

"Get out of the fucking turret," Takao growled impatiently, "I can't see shit out of my left eye, and I can _still_ shoot better than that!" He then looked at the _other_ scientist, who was still attempting to shoot down an Apache gunship with a Glock pistol. "Lloyd, David isn't beating Goliath with a nine millimeter versus five centimeter-thick armor; get inside and make sure that Cecile doesn't relapse."

Everyone swapped positions, and the driver pulled a few evasive maneuvers while Takao expertly loaded a fresh belt into the machine gun. He yanked back the action, which snapped into place with a sharp, metallic ringing, and he trained the sights on the AH-64 that was pursuing them.

"_**BURN IN HELL, MOTHERFUCKER!"**_ he cackled madly, the MG chattering quickly as the .50 caliber rounds lanced through the air; the first few shots of the stream missed, but Takao quickly reoriented his aiming pattern, and soon enough, the rounds were chewing through the relatively thin skin of the chopper's front. Within seconds, the pursued party watched as blood splattered across the inside of the windscreen, and the helicopter began spiraling out of control; it fell in a wild twirling frenzy from a thousand feet, and hit the ground, exploding spectacularly as the fuel tanks were impacted.

"WOO! How ya like me now, BITCH!" the captain hooted joyfully. Lloyd looked on impassively, and at the end, turned to Ishitora.

"Does this happen often?" The response was a shrug.

"Usually it takes a good hard rock soundtrack and a knife… But I guess that several hundred rounds of fifty-cal BMG works too." They were both startled as Takao started to spasm, and then fell out of the turret position, crashing over the seats in a wince-worthy fashion and landing in a crumpled heap in the back; he was clutching the side of his face and groaning lowly in pain. Ishitora saw a small stream of blood leak out from behind his hand, and immediately pointed it out to Cecile.

The woman gasped in alarm as the captain started to spasm wildly, his groaning getting louder and the bleeding getting worse.

"Takao…" she said quietly, "I'm going to need you to move your hands so I can see the damage." His single green eye turned towards her, shimmering with raw pain, but he slowly complied. She gasped in shock at the damage; a small noticeable slice ran across his narrowed eye, and the gash below it made for an effect similar to crying blood. "Oh, Takao…" she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. Behind her, Ishitora's gaze was hard, with a bit of sorrow underneath.

"Patch him up; we'll be at a way station in ten minutes," he said firmly. Everyone else moved into the front seats, with the general taking shotgun, and Lloyd being sandwiched between Takao's riflemen.

Takao's single good eye squeezed open, and he tried to offer her a collected grin; the effect was lessened substantially by the blood dripping from his mouth after impacting his face on the dash. "Heh… Don't go crying over me now, little miss Brit… After all, I'm… Just that bastard that kidnapped you… Got your own guys shooting at you…"

"Quit talking and save your strength!" she hissed, a few tears spilling over. "You're going to be fine…"

"Yeah, right… Only one good eye, and my career is basically over…" he chuckled, then hissed in pain from the jarring movement.

"Is your career all you ever think about?" she whispered sadly.

"My career is saving the lives of hundreds of thousands of innocent Japanese every day," he said weakly, his voice cracking from dehydration. "All I want… Is to see my countrymen… Free…" He gave a hacking cough, a little bit of blood spattering across the front of Cecile's uniform, "I'll do whatever it takes… Down… With… Britannia… *cough* Long… Live… _Japan_…" He then fell unconscious. Cecile panicked, thinking he was dead, and fell onto his chest, sobbing uncontrollably.

'_Why am I feeling this way?'_ she thought between fits of crying, _'WHY? He took us prisoner… Made us betray our country… So why does this hurt so much…?' _she paused suddenly when she felt his heart thudding slowly in his chest, and gave a gasp of joy. She then suddenly took note of the sticky liquid staining her face, and immediately realized that it was tears.

She swiped a finger across her cheek and pulled it away, staring at the viscous crimson liquid. _'And why don't I feel anything anymore?'_

She then realized that Takao was still bleeding. _'SHIT!'_ She fumbled for the bandages in the kit; the gash on his cheek was fairly deep, but it would scar over in the next few days. The one below his eye, however…

"Does anyone have any anesthetic?" she asked suddenly, glancing up at the other occupants of the LAV. The soldiers looked at her oddly, but Lloyd, surprisingly enough, pulled out a syringe with a vial of clear liquid inside.

"See, I have this condition…" he scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. Cecile wordlessly snatched the syringe and looked down sadly at the unconscious man; she then plunged the needle into his neck, where the anesthetic dispersed through his system from the top down. His breathing evened out, and he lay motionless.

She then took up the needle and thread, and proceeded to stitch shut the gash beneath his eye, careful to avoid catching it on his eyelid. Once she finished, she shut the box, and sat motionlessly over him, staring down on his neutral features forlornly.

In front of them, Lloyd leaned forward and stretched his hand out to Ishitora in a 'gimme' gesture; he had exchanged a few words about the current situation with the general outside, over the chattering gunfire. Ishitora now owed him five hundred yen, which the man begrudgingly slapped into his open palm.

**1430 hours  
>Waystation Kilo-Bravo, 20 miles outside of Kyoto<strong>

Ishitora and co., minus Takao and Cecile, walked into the command center of the observation post, which above ground was disguised as a small seniors' home.

"What's the status of the airbase?" he demanded, turning immediately to the OIC. The man offered a salute with one hand, whilst tapping away on a computer with the other. A panel of screens behind him lit up, displaying several angles of Britannian commandos being hauled away at gunpoint by SFG operatives.

"The base was quickly secured as soon as the focus was shifted onto your vehicle, sir," the man replied simply. "Any pursuers were eliminated; all others killed or captured."

"Any damage to the facilities?" At that point, the OIC sucked in a deep breath.

"… None to facilities, but those ArcLight missiles that you had taken away to be examined? Those were all destroyed." The officer stood blankly as Ishitora's fist slammed into a computer panel, showing the smoldering remains of the assembled missiles. The screen shattered on impact, and the general pulled away a bloodied fist; he nonchalantly picked out the shards of glass and wrapped it up with a roll of bandages that he pulled from his pocket.

"I see," his eyes narrowed, "Is that all? No damage to the _Avalon_?"

"Thankfully none, sir."

"Well at least it's not a total loss, then…" Ishitora sighed.

"Although the ship was confiscated by the BPG." Another screen was smashed, and the bandages were reapplied.

"What gives them the fucking _right_?" he hissed dangerously.

"General Katase's orders, sir; he said that we hold no use for such a weapon in our current state of organization. The BPG, however, will be able to press an offensive against Britannia, whereas we, having forsaken the right to wage war in the eyes of the world, are incapable of doing so; therefore, the technology would be of better use to them."

"So, he's in their pocket then, huh…" Ishitora muttered, glaring off into space as he stood deep in thought, unconsciously palming the pistol at his hip. "Don't bother reporting to him about the scientists, then; he might find out, and he might not. I don't give a damn."

The officer was taken aback by the order. "A-are you sure, sir?"

"Yes. I have a hunch that the General might be losing sight of our goals in this theater." He wordlessly exited the room, leaving the poor conflicted OIC fumbling around, deciding whether or not to reach for the phone.

While this went on, Takao lay forlornly on a Red Cross cot in the infirmary, the upper left side of his face covered in a gauze pad, held tight by bandages. He gave a dejected sigh and reached over to the crate beside the cot, which currently held his P226 pistol, custom engraved with the spread-winged gargoyle of the SBU.

Cecile entered tentatively, glancing around outside and then inside to make sure that no one was watching. "… Takao?" she said hesitantly. The captain looked over, a brief glint appearing in his eye – surprise? – before he placed the pistol on the table.

"Miss Croomy?" he intoned blandly, fixing her with an equally blank stare.

"I… just came to see how you are doing," she explained shyly, a small bundle hidden behind her back.

Takao quirked a brow. "What've you got there?" he asked slowly.

"Just… something I picked up in the garden," she revealed the bundle, which held pure white flowers.

"… Sakura blossoms," he said breathlessly, "I… I haven't seen any since my family home was destroyed, seven years ago…" Despite his very best efforts, a lone tear slipped from his eye. Cecile handed him the bundle, which he accepted shakily.

"Yes, well…" Cecile replied sadly, "One of the gardeners apparently knows you, so he thought that you'd appreciate it." She turned to leave.

"W-wait…" Takao called out weakly. She stopped and turned to see him holding the flowers in one hand, looking at her with a pitiful visage full of sadness, "Thank you for the flowers. P-please… Stay with me? I-I'm just so lonely here by myself…" he admitted.

The young woman was surprised, and blushed furiously. "… I suppose…" she replied hesitantly, tentatively approaching the cot next to him and perching on the edge.

The two sat in silence, not at all unpleasant, until Takao spoke up. "I suppose I should probably thank you for patching me up in the jeep, eh?" he chuckled weakly, "The medics say that I probably would've been worse off if you hadn't stopped the bleeding; apparently holding it off for as long as I did, I was about a minute away from going into shock from blood loss."

Cecile's blush returned full force. "O-oh, it was nothing at all… Just doing my duty, as you said…"

Takao shifted upright, abruptly clutching at his head in pain when he doubled over; Cecile jumped up and set an arm on his back to support him. He put a hand on her shoulder gently.

"No, it wasn't just 'nothing'," he assured her firmly; her cheeks glowed brighter. "You rose to the occasion and saved the lives of my men, as well as my own. You rose above and beyond," he offered her a gentle smile, which she unconsciously returned with one of her own.

They both seemed to ignore the fact that at the time, he had very effectively and deceitfully manipulated her; it was semantics at this point.

"And Takao…" she said shyly, "For what it's worth, I apologize for what Lloyd said earlier. He can just be such a distant, insensitive idiot sometimes…"

Takao simply chuckled. "It's fine. Ishitora is my superior, and he's a lot like that. Those two will probably get along _just_ fine."

Cecile's thoughts immediately strayed off elsewhere. She then blurted out boldly, "W-well maybe you and I can get to know each other better…" When he quirked a brow, she waved her hands negatively and elaborated, "S-since we'll probably be working together!"

Takao's head tilted slightly as he examined her features, and he then grinned slyly. "Oh, _I see_… "Get you know each other better", huh?"

"THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT!" she shouted indignantly, her eyes squeezing tightly shut. When she opened them, he had moved closer, to the point where their faces were a few meager inches apart.

"I believe that it's common courtesy for the patient to thank his doctor properly, no?" he whispered huskily, reaching up and cupping her cheek gently. Cecile dipped her head low, her cheeks now a deep velvet color.

"You don't want me," she replied sadly, "I'm just a lowly, unattractive assistant…"

"Unattractive?" he asked incredulously, "Have you _looked _in a mirror… well, _ever_? You're gorgeous!" Cecile let out a high-pitched squeak as he pulled her down on top of him. He chuckled warmly, which made her smile and giggle a bit. "And as for that 'lowly assistant' thing, just a little military education – "Adjutant" is basically synonymous with "Ranking Officer's Little Bitch"." She giggled more, and was soon laughing loudly. He was still laughing, and after another minute or so, they both finished and took a few deep breaths to collect themselves.

Cecile by now was fully aware of her current (and very compromising) position, but she now found it to be actually quite comfortable. "I could get used to this…" she sighed blissfully, settling further into his chest.

"Oh? So you like to be on top, do you?" he grinned mischievously, "I'll keep that in mind." Cecile then registered the hand that was currently resting on her backside.

"Down, boy," she smirked, feeling oddly… empowered. "I saved your life; you've got to do something for _me_ before we can… operate on even ground," she whispered seductively. This time, Takao's cheeks darkened slightly, before he grinned broadly.

"Oh, you and I will get along _just fine_…" he whispered back, nipping at her earlobe slightly; she snapped out of her previous haze and squeaked.

"CE-CILE!" Lloyd's call came from the hallway in a sing-song voice, "OH WHERE ARE YOOOOUUU?"

"_Bastard_…" Cecile and Takao hissed lowly in unison. She looked down at him and with their faces a mere two inches apart, said, "I… Guess I'll see you around."

"I guess so," Takao replied with a hint of disappointment. "And hey," he added, wrapping his arms around her, "Don't take crap from anybody, you hear?" He pulled back slightly and kissed her forehead; Cecile blushed once more, which faded as she reluctantly moved out of his embrace and off of him.

"Get well soon," she whispered to him as she stepped out. She came face-to-face with Lloyd as she rounded the corner, and promptly slugged him in the stomach. "And damn you to hell," she said as she walked away.

The white-haired scientist miraculously managed to tense the muscles in his abdomen as the punch came, and just narrowly avoided being floored. As he recovered and coughed from the lack of oxygen in his lungs, he looked around the corner at the single door in the hall, and moved to open it-

"If you open that door, I cannot guarantee the continued presence of your head," a male voice grunted from inside. Lloyd wisely and ruthlessly killed off any thoughts of investigation, and chased after Cecile.

Inside, Takao allowed the slide on his pistol to snap back into place; his only loaded clip rested on the crate beside him. "That'll teach that fucker…" he growled.

**2000 hours  
>Undisclosed Location<strong>

"_**This could all end right here, Jonathan."**_

"Rot in hell, motherfucker," OSI Agent John Robinson spat through several shattered teeth, along with bleeding gums and a swollen cheek.

"_**All you need to do is answer a few simple questions for us, Jonathan,"**_ the shadowed individual said emotionlessly. _**"Five simple questions, and you can go right back to your wife and daughter."**_

"I'm not telling you Japanese bastards _jack-fucking-SHIT!_" the agent roared for what felt like the hundredth time. "So you can go FUCK YOURSELVES!"

Another individual, whose visage was also shrouded in darkness, darted out from another corner and slugged him hard across the face. **"SPEAK, YOU WORTHLESS BRITANNIAN DOG!" **he roared frighteningly. Still, the OSI operative remained impassive.

A third man walked out of the shadows. _"What will it take to make you speak?"_

"Just fucking kill me, assholes. I won't tell you anything, as I have said for the past two months."

A new man entered the room, wearing a hooded sweatshirt with the hood drawn over his face, and carrying a sleek silver briefcase.

"I have the serum, as requested," he spoke in a normal voice, in comparison to his modulated comrades. He set the case on a table in the corner, and opened it up; inside was an injector, with a syringe filled with a black-speckled grey liquid. "Solution RH-337-B; termed by the original Britannian scientists as "Refrain", and renamed by our own people, "Nostalgia". Not the most original, I know; but we were on a schedule." The man slipped on a pair of sterile white gloves and picked up the injector.

"_**This is your last chance before we resort to more… Questionable methods,"**_ the first man explained.

"Here's a tip; go to the local pharmacy, ask for something called 'Viagra', and it'll help you to _**GO FUCK YOURSELVES!**_" Robinson declared boldly and venomously.

The man with the injector grimaced. "I _really_ hate my job," he grumbled, plunging the injector into the agent's arm and squeezing back the trigger. Robinson's vision became hazy, and he soon lost consciousness.

"_**At least this one drops the victim on their feet,"**_ he offered.

"**I still hate having to do this. I'd rather have beat him until he talked; much more humane,"** the gruffer man protested.

"This version is much more effective than the others," the chemist explained. "And since we have an antidote this time, it'll be all the more ruthless in the end."

"… _**This is the most ungodly cruel thing I've ever seen."**_

"It's necessary."

"**That's what Charles said."**

_Robinson's Subconscious_

"_John… John! Wake up honey, you're going to be late!"_

_Robinson slowly opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling of the brightly-lit room; it was his bedroom… In his home… In Detroit. _

_He looked forward and stared into the angelic features of his loving wife, Sophia. Her long brown hair hung down, framing her heart-shaped face, full lips, and stunning blue eyes. _

"_Where…?" he muttered, sitting fully upright and glancing around the room; everything was where it was supposed to be, at least from what he could recall. "Is this real… Or was that all… a dream?" _

"_What are you talking about, dear?" Sophia asked pleasantly, her eyes closing lightly as she gave him a heart-melting smile. "Have an interesting dream?"_

"_Japan… We invaded Japan, seven years ago… What year is it?" he asked, looking around for his phone. The touch screen smartphone rested on his bedside table, and he pulled up the calendar; April 22__nd__, 2010 ATB. _

"_Must've been quite the dream," she laughed heartily. "Come on, sleepyhead; you're going to be late for work!" _

_Robinson unsteadily moved out of bed, his body feeling odd; he moved to the bathroom without saying a word to Sophia, and shut the door quietly, staring into the mirror. _

_When he was in Japan, he was thirty-seven; his body looked thirty again. _

"_John, is everything alright?" Sophia asked genuinely, peeking into the master bath with a look of worry. _

"_I-it… Must've just been a vivid dream," he hesitated, his mind split into two conflicting truths – trapped in Japan, or back home in Britannia. _

_Sophia smiled softly. "Well I'm here if you want to talk," she planted a kiss on his cheek._

_It felt so real…_

_It felt so good…_

_Fuck the Japanese. _

_John smiled, and pulled his wife into a hug. "Thanks, Sophie." He spotted his suit hanging in its usual place and pulled it on, somehow knowing that he had taken a shower last night. "Is Michaela awake yet?"_

"_Yes, she's downstairs having breakfast," she replied cheerily. _

"_Great, I'll be down in a bit," he kissed her cheek, and straightened his tie, "I need to get my gear together." Sophia nodded and stepped out; John reached into his closet and removed the DNA-lock safe box where he stored his more… lethal gear._

_Beretta M92F pistol – check. Four-inch switchblade – check. OSI identification codes and identification card – check. _

_He stored everything on his person, and retrieved his briefcase; within seconds, he was down in his stunning modern kitchen. _

_His five year-old daughter, Michaela Angela Robinson, was placing her cereal bowl in the sink. "Daddy!" she cried happily, running towards him. He smoothly picked her up and raised her high above his head, laughing along with her. _

"_How's daddy's little girl this morning?" he chuckled, setting her down on a stool at the breakfast bar. _

"_I'm good!" she replied, giving a toothy smile that made his heart melt, much like Sophia's; like mother, like daughter, apparently. He was pulled away as the landline rang._

"_Honey, it's Joe!"_

_Joseph Banks, his long-time partner. John smiled as he took the phone from his wife. "Morning, Joe – what's up?"_

"_**Robby, hey! Listen, the boss called me this morning. He says that we're getting a week off before we get shipped off for our next assignment." **_

"_Really? That's great! Hey, you wanna come over and help me finish up that tree house for Michaela?" _

"_**Sure man, Bridget is working double shift at the hospital; I'll be over in ten."**__ Joe hung up, and John placed the phone back in its cradle, turning to Sophia with a wide grin. _

"_Guess who has the week off?" he said in a sing-song voice. Sophie gave a squeal of joy and leapt into his arms. _

"_Honey, that's amazing!" she laughed melodically. _

"_Yep! Joe and I are going to finish Michaela's tree house, and then I was thinking that we could send her over to the Carson's so that you and I could spend a little time together…" he wiggled his brows suggestively, and she blushed and swatted his shoulder, giggling. _

"_I think that can be arranged…" she said seductively. _

_John couldn't have been happier. Maybe Japan really was just a crazy dream…_

_Then he woke up._

**2005 hours  
>Reality<strong>

Robinson woke up in that same dark room, feeling every bit of pain that he had before. The four men still stood around him, looking at him expectantly; the chemist that had become number four was holding an empty injector, loaded with a different serum.

"_**Well?"**_

John shook his head violently, desperately trying to bring back his home; but it wouldn't come. He was fully struck by the fact that he had been drugged. "Wha… WHAT THE _HELL_, YOU BASTARDS?"

"**Nostalgia,"** the gruff man answered calmly, **"A variant of the drug Refrain, that you yourself were helping to peddle to the Japanese people. Instead of creating mockeries of the good ol' days, hoping that it would be correct, Nostalgia directly taps into your brain chemistry, more effectively examining and replicating your happiest memories – down to every last sight, smell and sound. Although you can also affect the illusion; but it just adjusts to your actions according to your personal memories of the people involved, and their personalities."**

"You sick _fuckers!_" Robinson hissed, "Toying with peoples' memories, and then just _yanking_ it away!"

"_**Oh, but that is where Britannia and Japan differ, Agent Robinson. We have no intention of trying to push this product off on anyone else; it is purely for interrogation purposes, and is created in the smallest dosages possible. The difference with your situation here… Is that we can make whatever you saw a reality; with slight time differences of course, but I'm sure that your wife is just as attractive at thirty-six." **_

John froze up on the spot. "W-what do you mean, "a reality"? How could you_ possibly _do that?"

"_We can set you free. We can get your family out of Britannia and to a peaceful foreign region of your choice; and you never have to see any of us again,"_ the third man explained. _"We can even give you your best friend back."_

"B-Banks? He's ALIVE?"

"Alive and quite well," the chemist stepped in. "He was captured in a raid on the OSI warehouse in Osaka; and he's been quite cooperative. He knows that you were captured, and he just wants you back."

"Joe…" John muttered in shock. "… And you say that you can guarantee my family's safety?"

"_**Absolutely. The BPG agents working with us have already located and approached them; they're just waiting on your word. Sophia's been waiting for you since you left for your long-term shift three years ago; she hasn't so much as touched a man since then." **_

"Sophie…"

"**Little Michaela is on Christmas Break; she's the top of her seventh grade class."**

"Michaela…"

"_Your adopted son Aaron made a special wish as he blew out his sixteenth candle, at his mother's request; he wants his dad back."_

"Aaron…"

"And Joe is waiting in the next room. All you need to do is answer _FIVE. SIMPLE. QUESTIONS_."

Jonathan Robinson finally cracked. "Alright…" he sighed, "I'll talk."

**End Chapter**

**End Note: Holy flying shit; longest chapter to date… I think. I would've gone for 20k, but I got the feeling that I probably already lost the attention spans of a lot of people by 15.**

**OOCness about! It is intentional. That is kind of a given by now. **

**Final pairings for anyone who particularly cares: Lelouch/Euphie(/Milly), Rai/Kallen(reviewer request), Takao/Cecile. Problems, haters? I believe that Robinson summarized my sentiments in that regard with his fourth "Eff you" statement (courtesy of a Helsing comedy spinoff that I cannot think of the name of at this moment). **

**This was a biggie. Locations where this was written include but are not limited to: Ted Steven International Airport, Anchorage, Alaska; 20,000 feet above Fargo, North Dakota, en route to Minneapolis; and of course, my current location, Casey Lake, Northern Michigan.**

**Read and Review!**

**-KFR **


	12. Act 3 Pt 3

**A/N: Here we get a little bit of conflict between the new order and the old guard, and a little time on the inside of the Siegfried Line. Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>Part 3<strong>** – **_**"Tora! Tora! Tor- Fuck it."**_

**December 7****th****, 2017 ATB  
>1100 hours<br>Mt. Fuji**

The Mount Fuji mines were first to fall back under Japanese sway during the uprising – and yet there wasn't a single SDF or BPG soldier to be seen.

No, since the fall of Kyoto, Fuji had become the primary headquarters of the Six Houses of Kyoto, who would have nothing to do with their pipe dreams of 'New Japan'. Taizo Kirihara , the head of the Kirihara Clan, was the official leader of the Six.

The Six Families were responsible for funding and supplying any up-and-coming resistance factions who were deemed worthy and capable. However, since Kawaguchi, every guerilla unit in Japan had taken up arms alongside the Self-Defense Forces or Naoto Kozuki's group, who were apparently self-sufficient. A few also took up contracts with the BPG, but most everyone was suspicious of the German PMC, accusing them of harboring ulterior motives in the liberation of Japan. Of course, the mercenaries neither confirmed, nor denied these allegations.

As General Katase's small convoy approached the primary entrance to the corporate sector of the mines, the Families' private security forces and the GSDF troops were having stare-downs, though the soldiers weren't quite as shy about pointing guns at the more aggressive of the opposite number.

The Komatsu stopped on a large diagonal cargo lift, and the car to their rear stopped any of the guards from following them in. The lift activated, and rose slowly towards the upper levels of the facilities. The three LAVs moved side-by side, and the drivers spoke over a secured commlink frequency, reviewing their contingency plans for the upcoming scenario.

Katase himself was exchanging a few quick words with the guards in the vehicle, and telling them to get out of the compound, or at least get a message out, in any manner possible should something happen. Tensions between the House guardsmen and the army had risen to the point that the slightest slip on either side in the presence of the other could result in civil war in addition to the one already going on. The SDF troops would have little problem dispatching the guardsmen, but it would still tear quite the rift in any attempt to reform the Japanese country and it's populous as a single entity.

The general was torn beyond belief in his current state, however. He was a _member_ of the old guard; but he knew that this New Japan would undoubtedly be the best thing for Japan, even if it would be completely discarding the old ways.

For the last month, he had been thinking and drinking and sleeping on his decision. He would definitely be deposed, or at least forcibly retired once order was reestablished. He had to choose a successor – meaning someone that he would give his last word for before his opinions and advice were completely discarded and ignored.

As much as it pained him… It came down to Ishitora, Tohdoh, or Takao. There were a number of other competent and veteran officers, that much was certain; but nearly all of them were in his very same situation, or were simply unprepared to lead.

Ishitora, for all of his odd and sometimes dangerous quirks, was a competent leader militarily. He would be able to lead Japanese forces into battle, should anything come to blows; but he wasn't a peacetime leader. Something else that would further complicate matters was the Japanese Constitution, established by general consensus in the late '40s. Japan had essentially forfeited the right to wage an offensive war outside of its sovereign territory, and any violation of this would give Britannia ammunition to turn international attention to Japan.

Tohdoh was fairly balanced, if slightly military-oriented. He was calm and collected, patient, and most importantly, diplomatic. The problem was that he was brought up, and had fought in the old era, whose ideals he still clung to in a big way.

Takao… He was a bit of a wildcard amalgam. He would undoubtedly face opposition from his seniors, being a twenty-some year-old captain, but there had been younger leaders. He was educated, competent and observant; the only downside was his recently-discovered condition, which could prove to be a bit of a hazard. However, should attempts to be made to remedy this issue, he was most definitely be the quintessential leader for the Japanese armed forces, and possibly even the country of Japan as a whole.

The person he selected would be in a position to affect national foreign policy. He had a predominate nutcase, an old man in a thirty-nine year-old body, and a well-meaning young man with a sociopathic hair-trigger.

Katase groaned and ran a hand over his face. Why did _he_ have to make this decision?

He was granted a temporary reprieve as the lift reached its destination, and the cars filed out one by one into the massive space beyond.

The area was dark as the troops filed out of the vehicles, though their gunners and drivers remained vigilant. It was every guard's nightmare; a massive, darkened, potentially hostile space, where an ambush could number anywhere from a dozen to a hundred.

A single floodlight snapped on at the end of the space, and the soldiers instinctively snapped their weapons towards the source. A large rice paper screen offered the silhouette of a man, sitting _seiza_-style and apparently staring at them expectantly.

"Katase-kun!" a gravelly, elderly voice called out, "Have you forgotten your manners? Come, we are all Japanese here! Let us quit this senseless posturing and have a civil conversation between men." One of Katase's soldiers, who actually happened to be a Britannian defector, gained a distinctly uncomfortable look. His partner clapped him on the shoulder reassuringly.

"Of course… Kirihara-dono," Katase replied hesitantly. Lights on either side of the path to the man snapped on, and sure enough, two dozen men in black suits carrying machine pistols and SMGs appeared from behind pillars, raising their weapons.

"No one must know the chairman's identity, not even a general!" one of them snapped, leveling his Mac-10 in a dual-handed grip.

Fifteen against twenty-four… Even if they _were_ soldiers, it would still be a hazardous fight.

"Kirihara-dono! What is the meaning of this?!" Katase demanded, trying his best to sound panicked. Back in his car, the gunner ducked down for a second and rapped his fist on a pile of ammunition crates in the back; the cunningly-assembled large crate opened up, and three SFG operators climbed out, taking deep breaths of sweet, semi-natural oxygen.

Nine new soldiers crawled out of the cars, ducking low and disguising their presence; Katase caught one of them flashing a signal, and breathed a bit easier. If things came to blows, the numbers were now even, and he had the_ true_ element of surprise.

"Stand down!" Kirihara barked, "For Kami's sake, we're all on the same side! LOWER YOUR WEAPONS!" Both sides hesitantly lowered their weapons, though the Special Forces remained in hiding. "That's better. Katase-kun, step forward."

'_Uh-oh.'_ This was the snare, right here. If he approached Kirihara, he would be walking straight into crossfire from three sides – might even be four, if Taizo himself had a weapon, or more guards behind him. He made his choice. "I'm afraid that I'm not too terribly comfortable with the current conditions, Kirihara-dono," he called back, "If you could approach the center of the room as well – to satisfy my more paranoid guardsmen, you see," he thought up an excuse, gesturing back to the men from his car; they must've been excellent actors, since both started sweating nervously on cue, and looking at the House guards uncertainly.

Kirihara sighed deeply. "Very well," he concede, the silhouette rising from its cushion. Taizo walked slowly around the screen, having to use his cane for support in movement. Katase slowly moved to meet him at the centerpoint, while the troops of both sides moved into position; the LAVs' machine guns would play a great role in clearing the room.

'_No, don't think like that,'_ the aged general mentally chided himself, _'It doesn't have to come to a fight. We can resolve this peacefully, and we'll all walk out of here unharmed.'_

Wishful thinking.

Both men reached the point, and guards from both parties brought seats forward; an ammunition crate for Katase to perch, and a cushion for Kirihara to kneel once more.

"Katase-kun, do you truly mistrust me so?" Kirihara asked, obviously feigning offense.

"With all due respect, Kirihara-dono, you willing turned over yourself and all of your assets to the Britannians for amnesty; and even now, you have yet to reveal yourself to the public eye, and make an official statement of your allegiances."

Now Taizo really _was_ offended. "Katase Tatewaki, when have I ever had anything but the good of Japan in my intentions?!" he demanded sharply, causing his men to reach for their weapons; Katase remained impassive, and so did his troops.

"In these times of political unrest and war, no one can be trusted but those who have solidly confirmed their intents," the general replied smoothly. His hand lingered on the grip of his pistol. Kirihara's expression softened, and he shook his head sadly.

"So you truly have changed…" he muttered. "I see. Well then, what do you plan to do with the SDF after the war is over? What then?"

"I plan to step down and give my support to a chosen successor," Katase declared. Several of his own men were shocked by this revelation.

"Yes, yes, of course… I take it that Tohdoh will be taking over, then?"

"He is one of the candidates, but I had other, more preferable options in mind."

Taizo's eyes narrowed. "Who could be more capable and preferable than Kiseki no Tohdoh?"

"Tohdoh was poisoned by the ideals of _our_ time, Kirihara-dono. He is too stuck on the old ways, when the country is promising change all around us. It is time for our generation, and our old-fashioned systems to retire, and let the new generations take over."

"… So then you're against us," Kirihara summarized blankly.

"Not directly, but against your system, yes. The Six Houses are the Old Guard, Taizo-san; you are relics, as am I. One last campaign, and then I will retire, and return to my wife. I suggest that you do the same."

"The Japan here has prospered for thousands of years, Katase!" Kirihara protested aggressively. "We need not change - only make ourselves known as the dominant power!"

"Article Nine of our constitution states that we have renounced war as a sovereign right of the nation," Katase replied tonelessly. "That is the one element that we shall maintain. Japan doesn't need war; we need only the capability to defend ourselves."

"_UNTIL SOMEONE TRIES TO IMMITATE BRITANNIA!_" Taizo finally snapped and roared, moving to his feet and raising his cane at Katase. The suited guards raised their weapons, and the GSDF soldiers moved nearer to the Komatsus for armored cover. The gunners released the swivel locks on their guns, and swung them around to face down the crowd. Another dozen or so suited men joined Kirihara's ranks, and the tension could snap violently with the next few words. "Don't do this, Katase-kun," Taizo pleaded, his eyes narrowed dangerously at the general. "I don't want to have to do this."

"You don't need to, Kirihara-dono," Katase replied, "You just need to _STEP. DOWN_."

"_**NEVER!"**_ the older man gave a battle cry, and pulled an old Nambu pistol from his robes. The gunners were quicker on their triggers, and hosed down the crowd; Katase moved as fast as his old bones would carry him, and dove behind his car.

The 9mm and .45 ACP rounds from Kirihara's guards sparked pathetically off of the LAVs' armor, while the GSDF troops fired from cover with M416 and Type 89 assault rifles.

It was a one-sided slaughter. Within exactly a minute, the guards lay bleeding and dying on the floor of the sanctuary, while only one soldier had even been injured; it was a meager flesh wound to his arm.

Katase stood and moved out over Kirihara's broken body; the old man had died when the second .50 caliber round cut through his skull. It was easier this way, the general told himself; he would've cracked if he had to say another word to a dying man.

"Mount up and move out! They're going to have this place locked down as soon as they find him dead!" he called out, jumping into the Komatsu. Without bothering to clean up, the troops filed in and left; the slaughterfest would be discovered minutes after they departed, and chalked up by SDF-sympathetics as a Britannian infiltration.

**1500 hours  
>JSDF CENTCOM (Central Command), Mt. Shirouma<strong>

Katase entered his personal office and immediately collapsed back into his chair, holding his face in his hands. _'What have I done?'_

"It is done, then?" a voice asked from a shadowy corner of the office.

"Yes," Katase replied hoarsely.

"You've done your country, as well as my company, a great service, General Tatewaki."

"You can drop the charade, Walther," the general snapped, spinning to face the slightly younger man. Tyler Walther smirked as he revealed himself. "I've done your dirty work, and Ishitora is probably going to turn my command against me by the end of the week."

"A country with no rights to war has no need of its tools," Tyler replied smoothly. "A PMC, however, thrives in war – therefore, we require such innovations in order to stay on top."

"It's mercenaries like you that _make_ such wars!" Katase retorted sharply. "Violence for Profit; the hallmarks of western ideology together in one fucking destructive package, all to plunge the world further into conflict."

"Well, a peaceable world has no need for fighters; therefore, we require war to thrive."

"Does your son know about this warmongering mindset of yours?!" the general growled venomously, rising from his seat and slamming his palms flat on the desk. Tyler flinched slightly.

"He… has a slightly differing perspective," the German man replied hesitantly. "He fully recognizes necessary atrocities and such. But… he thinks that we operate for the good of the world. He doesn't believe in generating or supporting wars for the sake of business; says its highly immoral, and one of the things that we're trying to eradicate."

"And so the sons surpass the fathers to the moral high ground," Katase spat. Tyler's shoulders sagged.

"War is all I've ever known; it's all I'm good for, and it's one of the only things that I can live with." The general's eyes blazed with a righteous fury.

"So you create _wars_ because you refuse to back down to a _desk job_ like an _AVERAGE MAN_?!" he roared indignantly. Tyler's expression morphed quickly back into a superior smirk, and he effortlessly waved off the accusations.

"Semantics," he waved it off.

"_**Get. OUT!"**_ Katase whipped out his pistol, and fired the entire clip at the spot where Tyler's head had been previously. He sprinted out of the office after the man, and roared down the hallway after him.

"_**GET OUT OF MY COUNTRY, YOU SADISTIC, WARMONGERING ASSHOLE! AND IF YOU EVER COME BACK, SO HELP ME, I WILL TRACK YOU DOWN AND SLAUGHTER YOU MYSELF!"**_

Tyler Walther left Japan by the end of the day. Thirty years later, on this exact date, he died of disease, his constitution having deteriorated from the overwhelming guilt of recalling his numerous atrocities against mankind.

His conversation with Katase was the final nail in the coffin.

**1900 hours  
>SFG-SBU Taskforce <strong>_**Chijo no Hensen **_**(Earthly Transition), Yokosuka Harbor (South Side)**

Eighty operatives had volunteered for the most shocking and disturbing operation in the history of their existence – the eradication of the Six Houses of Kyoto, the only remaining physical reminder of the old order of Japan.

Since the death of Taizo Kirihara mere hours previous, the five heads and their glorified thugs had found it most prudent to flee the country, and return at a more stable time. However, by attempting to run, they had delivered themselves straight into the waiting arms of their final executioners.

Two platoons, one of SFG, the other of SBU, had arrived to answer the call of the future. The heads had been tracked to a large cargo ship in Yokosuka Harbor, in an area south of the current military cordon of Tokyo. The ship contained nearly a thousand thugs, millions of yen in weapons and hard currency of nearly every world nation, and several hundred tons of purest liquid Sakuradite. The ship if captured could serve to finance a small army for two years – or a country's military for the time sufficient to build up a sizeable national defense.

A squad was dedicated to sniper support and clearing the top deck with therm-optic scopes; the rest were tasked with clearing the way to the control and engine rooms, and redirecting a course into the middle of an MSDF ambush zone. From there, the navy would force the remainder of the security forces to surrender.

However, the MSDF was unaware of the presence of the SBU and SFG, so the latter two would have to lock in the course and ditch before reaching the engagement zone; when the Kyoto heads were found dead, it would be blamed on a Britannian SEAL team or an insurrection. One squad would remain behind to make sure that the ship stuck to the correct course, but they would be retrieved and relieved by a forward SBU team, that would be first to board the ship from the ambush fleet.

It was all planned out to a T, and it would have to be executed thusly.

Takao would have been placed in charge of this op, had both of his eyes been intact; unfortunately, because of this handicap, he was relegated to a sniper support role. This was only deemed possible by rigorous testing.

In his place was his old lieutenant from the First Platoon, Ken Nakamura, who had been recently given a commission and promotion to First Lieutenant for his actions at Kawaguchi, Narita, and aboard the _Avalon_. The twenty-four year-old was in prime athletic condition, and was thusly also best suited to scale the side of the ship first, and drop the rest of the line to the platoons.

Nightfall would come quickly; the soldiers lay in wait in a nearby warehouse, listening to the sounds of final loading for their target ship.

Takao checked the chamber of the M24 sniper rifle in his lap, and unconsciously checked the padding over his blind eye. After three days, the eye had simply gone numb; the photoreceptors were no longer connected. And it almost totally assured that he would never use it again.

He stood up to move into position on top of the warehouse, and clapped Ken on the shoulder. "Don't screw up," he said simply, slinging the rifle over his shoulder and heading up the stairwell. Ken tossed some unintelligible comeback after him, but chose to otherwise leave his half-blind senpai alone.

"Alright, check your gear and prepare to move!" he called out, adjusting the shoulder straps on his Britannian SEAL-issue web gear. In case any of the guards saw them and happened to very fortunately live to spread the word, they were decked out in wet suits and boonie hats, with the MP5 as the predominate close-quarters weapon, and the M4 carbine amongst the rest. Their features were disguised by balaclavas, and their only communication was hand signals and short-wave comms.

The Japanese commandos snuck down into a series of drainage tunnels, and one by one, slipped into the icy waters of the harbor. Since this was a generally unused portion of the port, it was almost totally dark; perfect conditions for RHIB boats to slip quietly up to the sides of the ship.

**2000 hours**

Michiro Tsunoda, a _Wakagashira_ of the _Inagawa-kai_ Yakuza, paced the upper decks of the cargo ship nervously, hand resting on the grip of Minibea PM9 submachine gun. When his boss, the _Oyabun_ had received the message from Kyoto about this exodus, he had been all too happy to comply; Michiro, however, was very reluctant to leave his family here in Tokyo, while he was forced to gallivant between hideouts, protecting these old relics from their own shadows.

Something was going to happen soon; he had gotten this same feeling on that faithful August morning, seven years ago – back when he was but a mere _Shatei_, a little brother.

A shadow on the skyline of the docks caught his eye as he came around the superstructure, and he shown in his light in that direction; there was nothing there. He tapped a spotlight operator on the shoulder and pointed to the rooftops. The light shown on the pockmarked sheet metal, and they saw nothing.

"Keep an eye on that area," he told the man as he walked away. As he descended the stairs, he never saw the man drop to the deck, a clean hole running straight through the lower right side of his forehead.

Michiro stepped onto the foredeck, scanning either side of the port exit for any more shadows. He spotted none, and gave a half-assed wave to the three watchmen; he went below deck, and all three of them dropped dead with holes in the backs of their heads.

The _Wakagashira_ moved down to the ship's cargo bay. Three quarters of the space had been dedicated to cargo; the rest was occupied by the mix of Yakuza and hired thugs. He crossed a raised walkway along the side to the stern, heading to the crew quarters, where the Kyoto heads had taken refuge.

The _Oyabun_ waited beside the hatch into the area. "Anything to report?" he asked lazily.

"Nothing, sir," Michiro replied impassively. There was a loud thud above their heads, and he jumped a bit. The _Oyabun_ waved it off.

"It's just the ship's machinery; this damn tub is twenty years old or something."

**Upper deck**

The watchmen lay dead or groaning and dying on the deck. Ken vaulted over the side and onto the ship, discarding the suctions cups that he had used to climb. He removed the grappling hook and his length of line from his gear, and wrapped it around a section of the side. Within a minute, the first man was tossing himself onto the deck.

Within ten minutes, the platoon and three squads were assembled on the upper deck, and reviewing the mission plan from cover.

"_Alpha, Bravo, Charlie and Delta will be dispatched to secure the engine room and seal off the cargo hold; Echo, Foxtrot and Golf will take over the bridge, and locate and terminate the HVIs." _

"_What if the targets are located below deck, like we first suspected?"_

"_Then contact Alpha and Bravo in the stern and rendezvous with them to sweep the quarters and secure them. Any other questions?"_

"_None, sir." _

"_Alright then. We're doing a necessary service for the future of our country, gentlemen; if anyone discovers what we're about to do here, all hope for a unified Japan is lost." _

"_**HAI! LONG LIVE NEW JAPAN!"**_

Ken nodded and started off with Foxtrot for the bridge. The outer decks had been cleared by the sniper team, in true _shinobi_ fashion; it came down to clearing the inside quickly and quietly.

The squad reached a port side external hatch on the superstructure, and piled up on either side of the doorway. Ken made a series of hand motions – _move and clear_.

The man on the opposite side nodded and placed a hand on the release valve; two more moved out in front of and slightly back from the door, raising their SMGs and crouching.

_Three… Two… One… "MOVE, MOVE, MOVE!"_

The hatch swung inwards, and four Yakuza agents turned towards the noise; they froze in shock as they stared down what appeared to be four Britannian Navy SEALs. They were cut down with a chain of sputtering coughs from the internally-suppressed weapons, and the commandos moved in a single-file line.

Ken took the lead, stopping first beside another hatchway, presumably the galley; two more piled up with him, while the rest moved on to other hatches in the hallway. He tried the release valve, and found it unlocked – occupied. _"Bang and clear,"_ he called out quietly, unstrapping a flashbang and tossing it to one of the others. The man caught it and moved in front of and slightly to the side, while Ken opened the hatch; the grenade was tossed in, and the thrower moved out of the line of sight, covering his ears.

A flash of light and a loud bang came from within; the sound echoed down from other rooms. Ken and his soldiers pressed into the room,

Six thugs were in varying poses, groaning and shouting in shock and pain; they were cut down quickly. A cook had ducked behind the counter, and emerged firing an M9 Britannian service pistol. The commandos dove for cover, throwing tables over to use as cover, and returned fire; the cook was felled by five rounds to the face.

"_Galley clear!"_

"_Mess Deck B clear!"_

"_Crew lounge clear!" _

The squad reassembled in the crew lounge and moved into the next section. _"Central Communications Center, Chart Room, and Armory C – GO!"_

They moved like clockwork. Once the areas were cleared, the men reassembled in the Comms Center.

"_Sir, we have a list of radio frequencies!" _one of the men reported, standing over a list of numbers.

"_Tap in and keep an ear out,"_ Ken replied. He had searched the armory, and recovered a little something that he especially liked – an HK [X]M-8 assault rifle. He fixed an S-2 external suppressor into the pre-threaded barrel and slipped his MP5 into a loop strap on his leg. _"Is there any word on the location of the targets?"_

"_I'm getting some Yakuza chatter," _the freshly-elected radioman replied, a hand over his earpiece. _"Some of the thugs in the foredecks are getting antsy; they're suspicious, but otherwise unaware of our presence. Wait… There's an _Inagawa-kai Oyabun _onboard; he's supervising the protection of the Kyoto heads, who are hiding down in the stern crew quarters."_

"_Bingo; relay that to Charlie and Delta downstairs. Anything else?"_

"… _There's a _Wakagashira _that might be onto us; he's rounding up a few men and heading up here to investigate a disturbance."_

"_Dammit…" _Ken swore quietly, _"Two of you, hold here and ambush those men if anybody else misses them; we still need to clear out the bridge."_

"_Wilko."_ Two of the SFG men broke off and hid in the dark corners of the room, on the same wall as the hatchway. Ken took the other seven and headed up the stairwell to the bridge level. In the hallway outside of the control room, six Yakuza waited with machine pistols, milling around and chatting idly.

"_Deploy frag on my crosshairs," _the lieutenant ordered, raising his M-8 slightly and activating the infrared laser built into the scope. One man activated his NVG and looked into the hallway, spotting the target. He pulled a frag straight from his vest, minus the pin, and rolled it into the midst of the enforcers, silently counting down the four-second fuse in his head. Four seconds later, the Yakuza thugs were sent flying in all directions, minus several limbs, if not their consciousness/lives.

The hatchway into the control room was thrown open, and two more burly thugs stepped out, looking around at the bodies of their colleagues in shock; both had PM9s clutched in their meaty fists.

Both were felled by headshots, and Ken advanced on the hatchway with his rifle raised. The others followed, while the lieutenant pondered his next course of action.

"_Does anyone have a decent Britannian accent?" _he asked over the closed channel.

"_I _AM_ Britannian," _another replied with a deadpan.

"_Then you'll be doing the speaking until we have to get rid of them."_

"_Aw, shit... I'm gonna be guilty as hell for the rest of my life for this,"_ one of the men groaned. The squad advanced into the room, weapons sweeping left and right; the captain and the bridge crew had their hands raised in surrender.

"Search them," the Britannian commando ordered, bringing the illusion of leadership. Everyone patted down the crew, retrieving a few pistols and knives; one even carried a pipe bomb. "Move back to your stations," he ordered the crew. Once they were all in place, Ken handed him a slip of paper with the coordinates and heading on it. He took it and brought it over to the helmsman. "Set a course for these coordinates, and then step away from your station."

The poor frightened Japanese crewman nodded fearfully, eliciting some guilt stares from the Japanese SFG and SBU troops. After two minutes of tapping and adjustment, he turned to face them and raised his hands again.

"Good. This will send us to those coordinates with no more necessary manual input?" The man nodded quickly. "Ken, you have experience with large vessels, right? Check it."

Ken nodded. His comrades were allowed to use his name in impersonation situations simply because it was a common name, both in Japan and Britannia. He moved towards the consoles and investigated the instruments and displays; everything was marked in for their target area, and the automatic controls had the ship moving at a constant clip; the only thing that could affect their journey would be to manually shut down the engines.

He turned back to his Britannian subordinate and nodded wordlessly. The man turned to the helmsman and nodded in satisfaction. "This course should take us straight out to a waiting flotilla off of the Philippines," he explained redundantly. "Now all of you will move to the Mess Deck; the control room will be sealed off until we reach our destination. You will be placed under guard along with any other members of the crew who choose to come quietly. Now line up, single file, and move towards the Mess; if you attempt to resist or run, you will be shot."

The bridge complement complied without issue, and reached the designated area; half of the squad was assigned to guard them.

Once out of earshot and sight of the crew, Ken retook command. _"Has that_ Wakagashira_ turned up yet?"_ he asked the two in the radio room.

"_His men have been dealt with, and we have him under guard in here," _the men replied proudly. Ken broke off from the other two and headed in that direction, reaching the hatch and stepping over the threshold; sure enough, a thirty-some year-old man kneeled in the middle of the room, his hands flex-cuffed behind his back.

"They're getting younger and younger these days…" Ken spoke without the mike, much to the surprise of his subordinates. The man on the floor immediately recognized the Japanese accent, and snarled.

"_TREACHEROUS BASTARDS!"_ he snapped, "SELLING OUT YOUR COUNTRY!"

"I don't think that you fully understand the situation here, my Yakuza friend," Ken drawled carelessly in reply; he felt like he had to get this off of his chest to someone, even if he was going to end up killing the person as soon as he was finished. "See, those old fogies in Kyoto are relics of a bygone era – relics that must be shattered, and the dust swept up and tossed to the four winds. In order for our country to fully unify once this crisis ends, everyone must be in support of the New Japan, or they must be silent. Since these old codgers will obviously not stay quiet, we've been ordered to dispose of them. Get the picture?" he finished, tapping his temple.

Michiro was completely thrown; this was a _coup?_ Damn, everyone on this fucking ship was totally screwed… "Wait a minute," he blurted suddenly as a thought struck him, "If you had the full support of the government and military, you could've just destroyed the ship, or sent a larger force to take us. You guys are operating outside of Defense Agency jurisdiction, aren't you?!"

"You're a smart bastard, aren't you?" Ken shot back mockingly, "Yes. Major General Ishitora Misato asked for volunteers among his troops – discreetly, of course – and we were it. We were the ones willing to potentially sacrifice everything for our country."

"I see," the Yakuza nodded in hesitant understanding, "… So then we're just sacrificial pawns in the way of peace, aren't we?"

"A rather negative perspective on things, perhaps," the lieutenant pointed out, but then admitted, "But yes, realistically."

Michiro chuckled humorlessly. "Story of my life since I joined these damned thugs. I guess my wife was right, after all."

"Decisions in life," Ken agreed stonily. "As you've probably said several times before… Nothing personal." He whipped out his pistol and shot Michiro between the eyes, dropping the man immediately; he died with a peaceful expression. "Put him in a body bag; he deserved that much." The two men in the corners nodded, and one retrieved the dreaded burlap bag from his water-tight rucksack. They wrapped him up, and left the bag sitting against one wall while they started working the radio again.

Ken switched back to the radio. _"Have the targets been dealt with?"_

"_We've just finished clearing out the other crew quarters, sir," _a Charlie SBU commando reported. _"The heads and the _Oyabun_ are holed up in the last room, apparently unarmed. Would you like to do the honors?"_

"_If it means that I'll be the only one carrying this massive stain on my conscience, then sure." _Ken started downstairs, pulling out his 226 along the way and slamming a fresh clip into it. The rest of the ship had been sanitized, and the other Yakuza were trapped in the cargo hold.

He reached Charlie and Delta, and both squads were surrounding the largest bunk block, with their five targets (plus one) inside. _"Bang and clear; no point in overdoing it."_

They opened the hatch a little ways, and tossed the grenade inside; cries of pain came out, and Ken went in.

The first room housed Hidenobu Kubouin, Tosai Munakata, and Tatsunori Osakabe.

"Please, _PLEASE_, we surrender! DON'T KILL US!" Osakabe was begging pathetically, completely out of character. Munakata and Kubouin simply kneeled on the floor, not even bothering to get up.

Ken raised his balaclava, and the heads' eyes widened. "So then Kirihara fucked it up, didn't he?" Munakata grunted.

"_Chodo bijinesu, shinshi,_" was the commando's reply as he shot all three in the head, one by one. _Just business, gentlemen_.

Ticking off members in his head, Ken's heart dropped as he thought of the last two members that were holed up with the _Oyabun_ – Kaguya Sumeragi, and Suzaku Kururugi.

The former sixth house had been the Yoshino Clan, but when they were wiped out during the invasion, the sole survivor of the Kururugi Clan had taken up the mantle. Another problem that Suzaku might realistically pose was his almost inhuman strength and agility, acquired by physically conditioning since he could walk.

"_I'm gonna need some backup,"_ Ken said over his mic. Five men from Charlie stepped up, and the lieutenant steeled himself as he prepared a ruse. "Kururugi-san, Sumeragi-san! This is Charlie squad of the Maritime Self-Defense Force's Special Boarding Unit! The Britannian infiltrators have been detained; we need you to open the hatch so that we can get you out of here!"

There were two cheers from the other side as the latch slid aside; he didn't think it was possible, but his heart dropped even further at the sight of the two teenage clan heads, looking genuinely elated and relieved.

Ken pretended to look surprise at the presence of the Yakuza _Oyabun_, and raised his rifle. "Sumeragi-san, Kururugi-san, step away from that man immediately! He is a known leader of the Yakuza!"

Thirteen year-old Kaguya Sumeragi's joy evaporated as she turned on the _Oyabun_ with a look of shock and betrayal. "Y-Yoshino-san, is this true?!" she whispered in fright.

Yoshino Tsunoda, the fourth _Oyabun_ of the Inagawa-kai Yakuza (there had been five, but Kyota Jiro, the fifth, had been killed in the invasion), frowned guiltily. "I'm sorry for the deception, Kaguya-sama, but Kirihara-sama had hired my group to protect you and your organization."

Eighteen year-old Suzaku Kururugi was unfazed. "We can discuss this later, we need to get out of here!" he rushed them, moving for the hatch; he was shocked as five more men poured into the compartment, and Ken slammed the door shut; it was locked from the outside.

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that, Kururugi-san," he intoned stonily, raising his P226. "You see, all three of you represent a threat to the future unity of New Japan; therefore, whether we like it or not – you must all be terminated."

Kaguya froze up, and she let out a slight whimper; Ken's internal resolve faltered. Suzaku backed up until he hit the wall, shocked and genuinely fearful. Yoshino was glowering at each man in turn, but was otherwise speechless.

"_I-I don't think I can do this, Nakamura-senpai," _one of the other men gulped; his comrades were surprised to hear him weeping slightly. _"I look at Kaguya-sama, and I keep seeing images of my own daughter…"_

"_Stay strong, Akara-san,"_ Ken urged weakly, _"This is all necessary, in the end. This is one of the last obstacles between us and our final return to our families."_

"_I never signed on to kill political figures of my own country!" _another of their number protested vehemently, stepping away from the encirclement and raising his MP5 at Ken. All weapons in the room went up, but no one knew where to point their gun.

"… _There's something about this that doesn't feel right,"_ someone drawled suspiciously.

"_Yeah,"_ another agreed, _"… This feels like we're being set up."_

"Is anyone else feeling weird about this?" Yoshino asked, as though reading their minds.

Ken thought hard about their current scenario. "… Kaguya-san, was Kirihara-san or any of the other members approached by anyone, or prompted to make this journey?"

Kaguya wiped the tears from her eyes and sniffed, "W-we were approached by the Black Panzer Group… They said that if we ever felt threatened, we were welcome in Hokkaido, and that t-they would support us in any crisis…"

It all clicked.

"_Those conniving German bastards…" _they growled as one.

"Alright, we're all being set up here," Ken holstered his weapon and tapped his earpiece. _"All units, we're being set up; search your sections for any sort of explosive device."_

"_**Roger!**__" _

Yoshino cautiously pulled out his radio and pressed the call button. "Gentlemen, we have reason to believe that we're being set up; check the hold and the cargo for a bomb."

"_A bomb, boss?!"_ his next-in-command shouted back incredulously.

"You heard me!" the elderly Tsunoda barked, silencing the man on the other end. Once he clipped the radio on his belt, the occupants milled around the compartment almost sheepishly; the commandos more so than the last two surviving Kyoto heads and the _Oyabun_.

Ken coughed awkwardly, shifting everyone's attention. "Well, I suppose that we should recover the bodies of those other three, and probably those other thugs."

"Leave the thugs," Yoshino waved it off carelessly, earning surprised and offended looks. "What?! I'm just representing; most of the men in the stern were Yamaguchi-gumi. The few men that I brought are hanging out in the cargo hold."

Speak of the devil, his radio buzzed. _**"BOSS! WE FOUND A BOMB ATTACHED TO THE SAKURADITE TANKS!"**_

The room turned pale as sheets. **"EVERYONE OFF THE SHIP, **_**NOW!**_**" **Ken barked, grabbing Kaguya around the waist and sprinting out of the room. The others gave chase, and the SBU and SFG men joined quickly once the word was spread.

On deck, everyone stood around the sides, Yakuza and soldiers alike.

"Where are the life rafts on this tub?!" someone shouted out in a panic. Everyone scrambled, searching the surface of the deck; Ken was tossed a pair of bolt cutters, and he snapped off the nearest padlock on a container; the doors swung open, and sure enough, several large orange packages were stacked inside.

"I've got a few over here!" he shouted over the din.

"There's some large ones in here!"

"They're stacked to the top in this one!"

With stunning organization, everyone aboard formed groups and started diving over the sides with rafts in hand; one by one, the bright orange vessels began automatically inflating in the water. The Yakuza in their rafts started rowing for shore.

Several soldiers took control of an onboard crane, and started lowering the larger rafts to the sea; Ken ushered Charlie squad and the two Kyoto heads into one, and once a few strays were picked up, they too were lowered.

"What did the timer on that bomb even say?" someone asked when the Special Forces men had removed their balaclavas.

"Good question…" Ken muttered. The mid-sized outboard motor in the boat started up, and they moved away slowly.

"Wait… Did we call off the fleet?"

"We're out of radio range, and we can only pray that the bomb goes off either before or after they get close."

**2030 hours**

Their prayers went unanswered.

An ambush force, consisting of two _Hayabusa_-class patrol boats and several mixed cruisers and destroyers, attempted to hail the cargo vessel; they had received an order from naval command to be on the lookout for a ship that was ferrying Britannian intelligence officers and intel to the enemy fleet in the Philippines.

Once their calls went unanswered, the two patrol boats pulled alongside; warning shots were ignored, so they instead shot out the two massive propellers. Once the vessel had come to a stop, it was boarded by several teams of Japanese MIT (Maritime Intercept Team) agents, who searched the ship from stem to stern. They found nothing but dead bodies and millions in illegal property.

Then, the bomb went off, ripping open the sides of the Sakuradite tanks, and the tanker with it. The blast was enough to rip holes in the sides of the two cruisers to its bow and stern, and to capsize the patrol boats on its port and starboard.

This event, despite the apparent insignificance in the numbers scheme, served to create a large enough gap in the Japanese naval blockade for a small Britannian convoy to slip through; an hour later, for the first time in two and a half months, Britannian reinforcements set foot on Japanese soil – the 42nd Infantry Division, consisting of eighteen thousand troops, fresh up from subduing an uprising in South Britannia; the 65th Squadron, 8th Armored Division of a hundred fresh new M1A3 Abrams MBTs, and over two hundred wheeled vehicles; and two companies of the 160th SOAR Air Cavalry Division, nearly fifty assorted UH-60 Blackhawks and CH-47 Chinooks, along with thirty AH-64 Apache and AH-6 Little Bird gunships.

Yes, this was actually a relatively small convoy - compared to a major taskforce, which was generally transporting an Army Corps or two, along with an armored and an air cavalry corps.

The next day - December 8th, 2017 – The Siegfried Line was recaptured and rebuilt by Britannian forces, this time with extra anti-missile countermeasures.

**December 9****th****, 2017 ATB  
>0700 hours<br>BPG Japan Branch HQ – Sapporo, Hokkaido**

Lelouch watched the satellite footage, grinding his teeth in aggravation. His plan had been perfect; but of course, he had trusted a third-party operative to arm the bomb. So instead of '1930', as he had instructed, the bomb had detonated an hour late, at 2030 hours. It was supposed to have only killed the Special Forces, the Yakuza, and Kyoto! Not blow a goddamned hole in the Japanese naval defenses, allow almost all parties to escape and tell the tale, and undoubtedly lose support within Japan! Not to mention the loss of the Siegfried Line and his western forward command staff!

Everyone involved was completely pissed off – he and his men at the failure, and the Japanese at _him_. If he didn't do something _very_ soon, he would be facing a three-way war.

Yesterday had been oddly silent, forcing him to merely sit back and watch as his troops in Saitama were overwhelmed and beat into a bloody pulp. Now, he was giving Ishitora or Katase five more seconds before _he_ called _them_.

The devil was speaking far too often lately. His office line buzzed, and then beeped once, signaling a second call. He answered both on a conference line. "Something I can do for you gentlemen?"

"_**Cut the crap, Lamperouge,"**_ Ishitora growled over his connection.

"_Let's skip straight to why I shouldn't give the order to fire the guns that are aimed at your office right now," _Katase added; his tone oddly neutral.

"Yeah, those ships have been sitting in my port for about three hours now," Lelouch commented idly, "Now I see what you were going for there." He spun in his chair and snatched up a pair of binoculars, staring out the bay window at the anchorage; sure enough, a destroyer and an actual _battleship_ were sitting nearest to the exit, all guns aimed straight at him; he could practically see down their barrels. The five-inchers were typical, but the sixteen-inch guns on the battleship were a bit sobering. "Well for one, those were my father's orders; I was just told to come up with a plan."

"_**So you would just listen to daddy dearest and kill four old men, a boy of your own age, and a girl that could practically be your sister without a second thought? Not to mention eighty of my best, and several hundred Yakuza?"**_

"The Yakuza hardly required a second thought," the teen waved the last bit off, "I could've solved every problem that I have with the Russian Mafia in this theater with that one bomb. But as for the others, you think that I don't feel guilty for this? I just understood dad's reasoning, and it would've been in your best interests anyway. What I want to know is _why the hell didn't your men just kill them and go home?!_"

"_Because while the old codgers were easy enough to finish off, Ken couldn't work up the guts to kill a little girl and a teenager," _Katase replied blandly. _"I would've personally killed Kururugi just because I hate that arrogant little bastard's guts, but Kaguya-sama is totally innocent."_

"She's still going to bounce back and oppose New Japan since you left her alive and able to speak," Lelouch snapped.

"_**Actually, she's taken a vow to support the new government in any way she can; Suzaku just agreed to back out of politics and let the Six Houses become One. You really should've got your story straight on this before you tried to trick us."**_

"I wouldn't have had to if you had just played along all the way and _killed them!_" the boy groaned, running a hand agitatedly through his raven hair. "It doesn't matter what they agreed to, they still represent the old ways, and that alone is going to empower the old stiffs."

"_Granted,"_ the elder general grunted slightly. _"But what about the bomb then, huh?!"_

"Riiight, _that_ bomb…" Lelouch rolled his eyes a little, "That was a little bit of poor planning on my part. See, the bomb maker and delivery man that I hired was apparently on Chinese payroll; so he purposely fucked it up just to screw with everybody. I already turned him over to my Russian associates, who happen to rather enjoy doing a little… 'Creative Interrogation,' as they call it."

"_**But what about **_**reparations**_**, then?!" **_Ishitora demanded.

"You lost four ships, right? I'll let you pick any four of the same type, and provide a full crew and stock of ammunition for all of them," he replied nonchalantly.

"_I'm not trusting your men to run my operations _ever again_, Lamperouge," _Katase deadpanned, _"_I_ will provide the crew."_

"Suit yourself, it saves me resources." Lelouch spun in his chair to face the door, where two burly Russian men in balaclavas and Russian Federation Navy uniforms waited, evidently extremely bored. He flashed them a thumbs-up, and they dashed excitedly out of the room. Well, if the Russian Navy wanted to fight the Japanese for four stolen prototype ships, they sure as hell could – so long as they did it _outside_ of his territorial waters.

"Alright, crisis averted – back to business."

**Same time  
>Kyoto Airbase<strong>

"Oh how I despise that arrogant little prick…" Ishitora pinched the bridge of his nose as he hung up the phone.

"He was your favorite person in the world just over two months ago," Takao pointed out from his usual seat off to the side, where he was sharpening a switchblade.

"Times, they are a changing…" the general sighed dramatically. "Anywho. What's the status of the Float project?"

"You just have the most unoriginal naming conventions…" the captain deadpanned, "Thanks to the data we've recovered from the _Avalon_'s computer banks, as well as what few details we've gotten out of the Camelot crew, we're roughly three days away from implementation; the first application will be to LAVs and troops transports, followed by APCs, and then moving up to try and make the Hover Tank concept work."

"So then I take it that flying renders the Tank Harken thing redundant?" Ishitora sighed.

"Actually no, it makes it much easier to apply," Takao responded, at which his superior perked up substantially. "With a propulsion system that forces the vehicle to be airborne in all forms of motion or action, an anchoring system is required for stationary firing, to prevent excessive recoil or overpropulsion; hence the Harken Anchors."

Ishitora looked like he was doing a victory dance in his head.

"Quit celebrating and get back to work. I need to check in with Lloyd and make sure he isn't expending his entire budget again. And if I come back and that paperwork isn't done, I'm using your face for target practice." Takao didn't wait for a response, and backed out of the office, slamming the door shut.

The one-eyed captain (who was now wearing an eye patch and being referred to as 'Claus von Staufenburg' behind his back) headed downstairs of the central headquarters, which also happened to be an expanded ATC for the base. The lower levels were all a small-ish hangar divided into several floors by catwalks and platforms.

He descended a few levels before glancing around the massive spider's web of interlocking walkways and wire-suspended metal plateaus, until he finally found what he was looking for… And she just happened to be falling straight towards him.

Wait… _Huh?_

Shit.

The pair ended up in a mess of limbs on one of the outlying platforms of Level Three. "You know, Cecile, I think you're taking "jumping" me to a new extreme," Takao half-chuckled, half-groaned as he sat up and rubbed his head, looking down at the blue-haired woman in his lap.

"Sorry… Lloyd set off the formula for his 'Flame Harken' idea upstairs on Level Six, and I spotted you down here…" she scratched her head with a sheepish grin.

"In other words, _he _spotted me down here, purposely set off the reaction, and the pushed you over the edge?"

"That the gist of it," she sighed in resignation.

Takoa chuckled and jumped adroitly to his feet, Cecile still in his arms; the blue-haired woman yelped slightly and blushed.

"I guess now I actually need to _thank_ him as opposed to threatening to kill him now…" he breathed into her ear, eliciting a slight shiver. When she started pressing in closer, he maddeningly backed off, and swung her back to her own two feet. Cecile did the natural thing that she felt in this situation – she pouted childishly.

"Fucking tease…" she huffed under her breath. She was poked on the nose, startling her.

"Such profanity, Cecile Croomy!" Takao mock-chastised, wagging the offending finger chidingly in front of her face. "Such foul language and behavior rates sufficient punishment…"

"Oh?" Cecile's mind spontaneously hatched a little scheme, "P-punishment? …No, you're right. Master, would you punish me? I promise I'll be a good girl…" she stuck her lower lip out slightly and gave him the most deceivingly innocent, yet simultaneously alluring look that Takao had ever seen. The captain's expression became unreadable, and he blinked once. Twice. Three times.

"Kinky," he finally replied, smirking a bit. "We'll have to get on that later. For now, I need to collect the reports and make sure that Ishitora hasn't tried to burn down his office just to get rid of his paperwork."

Cecile cursed again and stomped childishly in defeat. "Fine…" she heaved a great sigh, leaning over and unintentionally giving the captain a first-rate view down her shirt; he blinked and hurried to staunch a nosebleed as she righted herself. "Lloyd is keeping them on his desk on Fifth Level; you'd better snag them before he causes something else to spontaneously combust."

"Thanks," he offered, turning on his heel to move away; he was caught by the collar and pulled face-to-face with Cecile.

"I'll get you someday; mark my words, Captain…" she whispered directly into his ear, mimicking one of his previous acts by giving his earlobe a little nip; Takao, however, had better control - _slightly_ better, anyway. He managed to restrain his natural reaction to a minor twitch. It proved to be for naught, as Cecile apparently detected it, and gave him an alluring smirk.

"You can most definitely try, Miss Croomy…" he challenged, swatting her on the butt and hurrying quickly out of range, narrowly avoiding her responsive right hook. "Be a good girl, now!" he called back with a laugh as the blue-haired woman steamed behind him.

The only thing that soured his mood was the series of calls of "SIEG HEIL!" as he ascended back to the offices, as well as several Nazi salutes and much laughter at his expense.

"See how it sounds when '_Colonel_ Staufenburg' pays you a visit in the next few days…" he grumbled, thinking back to the promotion acceptance papers sitting on his desk, waiting to be notarized and filed. "Little shits won't be laughing so much then…"

**0800 hours  
>Takasaki, Gunma-Saitama Border (Approx.)<strong>

The city of Takasaki sat within the borders of the Gunma Prefecture, near the Tone River, which divided Gunma from Saitama. It was a major railway hub in this area, and thusly was a hotly-contested sector.

Currently, the city was in a state of disrepair – a rather polite way of saying that everything but the rail yard had been reduced to rubble. All civilians had been evacuated from the area several months previous, back when the JLF had just sparked the uprising. So in essence, if you set foot in this area, and weren't associated with the side that controlled it – chances were that you would be dead within five seconds or less of spotting one of its inhabitants.

Right now, the yard was occupied by half a dozen of the BPG's mobile artillery platforms and rapid infantry delivery systems, which were basically armed and armored bullet trains that were modified with internal magnetic fields that allowed them to stop on a dime without splattering their occupants all over the fronts of the cars. Lelouch was having a little field day, personally running a series of hit-and-run exercises orchestrated along the rail lines at different intervals, adjacent to the freshly-fortified Siegfried Line.

"I feel like my ancestors have been ripped off…" the teen had muttered upon reading the situation reports, "Stole the Siegfried and Rhine concept and shot it straight to hell with all of the Knightmares and CIWS cannons and shit."

"Well, we're kind of cheating too, with the train guns and such," his aide had pointed out.

"I know, but it's still just so fucked up!"

In the end, he had gone out to celebrate the averted crisis with the SDF by trying to blow the three-meter by six-meter by hundred-some mile wall to hell and back.

It was easier said than done, since the thickness of the structure housed an estimated five layers of titanium reinforcing plates, and the largest gun that could be fitted to the trains was a repurposed five-inch.

As the recoil of the gun subsided, and the train began to move again, Lelouch groaned in disappointment as the HE shell barely penetrated more than three inches. "Move up to Mile Six and fire again!" he called out to the driver. In response, the Otobreda 127mm naval gun turret suspended above the train sank back into its container car, and the train accelerated towards the next firing position.

"We aren't getting anywhere with this!" one of the gunners shouted in frustration. "Squash head, armor-piercing, straight explosive – hell, we've even tried depleted uranium kinetic penetrators! NOTHING IS WORKING!"

Lelouch calmly reached over and slapped the slightly older man across the face. "Shut up and let me think," he said simply. He was running a mental inventory on every last explosive device that he had ever worked with, and several more that he knew to be stocked with their forces somewhere – and dammit if it wasn't a lengthy list. "How about nuclear-"

"**NO!**" his assembled subordinates immediately derailed that train of thought, situational pun intended.

"Killjoys," the teen muttered disappointedly, "Fine then; anyone else have any bright ideas?"

"Tunnels?" someone raised their hand.

"We'd have to tunnel pretty damn deep, since there's a little _big_ river sitting in front of it," Lelouch replied blankly.

"Proper application of high explosives?" another offered.

"I'm giving you a raise for that, but we're going to have to save it for a Plan B, I'm afraid."

"HAHO jumps?"

"Let me know how that goes when your parachute and potentially your body gets turned into a very convincing imitation of Swiss cheese."

"Well then what exactly do _you_ propose, Mister Teenage Genius?" the gunner snapped irritably.

"What else do we do best? We lie, cheat, steal, and all around raise hell in the most underhanded manner possible," Lelouch offered the assembly a chesire grin, pulling a belt from behind his back.

"HEY-" the gunner shouted, only to have his fatigues fall and pool around his ankles. "Motherfucker…" he growled, snatching his belt back from Lelouch.

"There's a reason why everyone else had theirs sown into the lining of their uniforms already, Boris," one of his comrades chuckled. Lelouch jumped up from his perch atop one of the massive discarded 127mm shell containers, and slid the loading door open as the train started to slow.

"Keep at it and move at three-mile intervals; if they start to zero you in, move nine as fast and you can and continue the pattern," he ordered. The train slowed further, and out of nowhere, a UH-60 with Britannian SFOD-Delta marking swept down and matched its pace. The door on the chopper slid open, and Rai Uzuki was crouched in the doorway.

"Call for a taxi there, boss?" he grinned cheekily. Lelouch stepped back to get a running start, and dove straight from the train and into the helicopter, angling his jump so that the drag would carry him straight into the rear seats.

"And don't do anything stupid while I'm gone!" he called back as the door slid shut, and the chopper ascended back into the clouds.

The gun crew lingered around the car idly for a few long moments…

"… Anyone else want to get smashed?"

"I'm in."

"Totally."

"VODKA!"

**1000 hours  
>Government Bureau, Tokyo<strong>

"I honestly don't even want to _know_ how you pulled this one off," Cornelia grumbled, staring up at the mess that was currently imbedded in the upper levels of the Government Complex from the garden.

A Britannian C-130 cargo plane was crashed into the side, surprisingly relatively intact for its current predicament; the loading ramp was down, and three of _her_ paratroopers were dangling helplessly from the hydraulic pipes by their parachutes. A howler monkey was sitting on one of their heads, picking what she assumed to be dandruff out of his hair, while a parrot was sitting on another's shoulder, and having a conversation with the man.

Directly above the first wreck was a second, this one a UH-60 helicopter. A Japanese teenager with messy white hair was hanging by the back of his jacket from the nearly-shattered tail rotor, and his comrade was perched on the tail section above him, smoking a cigarette without a care in the world.

Lelouch himself was standing on top of the tail section of the C-130, a cell phone up to one ear, and covering the other to try and hear the person on the other end over the raging wind at his current altitude.

"Man, it's Berlin all over again…" Andreas shook his head, his wide eyes never leaving the spectacle before them.

"You're telling me; I was there, too!" Captain Jack Bartlett, who had apparently been the pilot of the cargo plane, chuckled heartily. "I'm kinda proud that I managed to pull that off again… Except y'know, that chopper isn't exactly an antique ME-109."

"No, no, I think it actually looks better with the chopper," Darlton replied, taking his hands and framing the scene like a movie director.

"Ya really think so? 'Cause you know, it really just brings in an entirely different ambience…"

"Are you two really having this conversation?!" Cornelia snapped irritably, turning on the two officers behind her. The pair immediately clammed up, but in plain sight, Darlton turned his head slightly towards Bartlett and offered an affirmative thumbs-up and a grin. The captain grinned back proudly, and quickly dismissed himself. "How the hell does that guy always end up back in my unit _every time_ I intentionally reassign him?" the Vicerene pondered agitatedly.

Andreas's eyes flicked skyward, and he whistled innocently, backing away and eventually out of the garden.

Cornelia facepalmed and groaned tiredly. Lelouch finally snapped his phone shut and leaped down from the top of the wreck, landing and rolling to cushion the impact; he straightened up right in front of her.

"You know, this isn't helping to improve my opinion of you in any way whatsoever," she ground out.

"Oh come on! Do you not remember Berlin _at all?_" the teen protested incredulously.

"No, because Schneizel was the one who had to supervise that mess." It was Lelouch's turn to facepalm.

"I _knew_ I should've crashed into the _Avalon_ when I had the chance!" he whined childishly, "He would've appreciated it _so_ much more!"

"_Actually, I'm appreciating the irony of this whole thing quite a bit right now,"_ a slightly arrogant voice that could only belong to her brother interjected. Lelouch glanced down at his pocket, and then picked out his phone. He groaned and rubbed a hand across his face.

"I swear to god I told them _NOT_ to let you near any electronics…" he muttered.

"_Then you should consider hiring technical officers for more than their _aesthetic _values,"_ Schneizel replied, emphasizing that one word suggestively.

"I _knew_ I should've just shipped you back to Okinawa and blacklisted you…"

"_Oh, and you're going to want to replace the guard squad downstairs that is currently playing _Drinko_ with your little plants from that Japanese submarine crew."_

"Aaaaand I am officially firing my entire staff," Lelouch declared exasperatedly, throwing his hands into the air in submission. "Alright then, I'll bite; what the hell do you want?"

"_Oh, I just wanted to talk to my _darling_ little sister,"_ he replied innocently, though one could almost _see_ him rolling his eyes at _darling_.

"I'm right here, you treacherous, sarcastic asshole," Cornelia grunted in a very un-ladylike manner.

"_Ah, aren't I just the most popular man in Japan today!"_ the Second Prince chuckled; he was getting _way_ too much enjoyment out of this. _"Yes, about that wall thing, little piece of advice – up the payloads on those Tomahawks. If you were actually able to rebuild over the crater, then they clearly aren't doing their jobs properly."_

"Technically, I had to fill it in to move troops through the gap," Lelouch interjected.

"… _Still, about that payload thing-"_

"Can you just get to the point, Schneizel?!" Cornelia shouted impatiently.

"_Oh, alright. I'm renouncing my claim to the throne."_

… Time stood still. All activity ceased, and everyone within visual range (even those who probably _didn't_ hear the declaration) turned towards the phone and stared incredulously.

"_Get those looks off your faces, I'm not done."_

All resumes.

"_All of my personal funds are being turned over to the Japanese, and my Camelot team is being absorbed into the Ground Self-Defense Forces." _

Stillness…

"_Almost done. All of my soldiers stationed at Kadena Airbase in Okinawa are turning in a mass-resignation, and as my final act as a Prince of the Empire, I am hereby honorably discharging them. _All_ of them."_

Silence.

"_Okay, now I'm done,"_ Schneizel sighed.

Mayhem ensues.

"Well, I honestly didn't see _that_ coming," Lelouch said blankly.

"Wasn't there some reason you came here in the first place?!" Cornelia snapped back.

"Oh, _right!_ That prophesy bullshit," the teen snapped his fingers. "_**From below the mountains, the world shall rise like the tides, and swallow all corruption that they contact. When the tides reach the shining city of Zion, the last stronghold of the false prophets, and swallow it whole, the veil of deceit spread across the world shall be torn asunder, and the shadow of the False King shall disappear.**_" Lelouch cleared his throat, and then was thrown into a coughing fitting upon his grand finish.

"… That was much more religious than the last two," Cornelia commented idly.

"Yeah, I was gonna do this whole biblical adaptation, with Narita as the Mount of Olives or something like that – but I really didn't have the patience until the final act rolled around."

"'_Act'?" _Schneizel asked confusedly – Cornelia had conveniently refrained from informing him of these previous meetings.

"Ah ah, dear Schneizel," Lelouch tutted as though chastising an ignorant child, "A true actor must never think of anything but the role he plays; after all, breaking the fourth wall is a major taboo."

"As though we haven't done it here enough…" Cornelia muttered off to the side.

"_**SILENCE!"**_ Lelouch boomed. _**"So it is spoken… And so, IT! SHALL! BE!"**_ He was enveloped by a great cloud of smoke, and he, along with his two companions from the helicopter, were gone.

"… _I'm sensing major foreshadowing here,"_ the [former] Second Prince commented.

"WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE?!"

"_Technically, I'm not."_

**(End Massive Crack Session)**

**December 10****th****  
>1300 hours<br>Siegfried Line**

No nobility or Purists or any of those assholes here – Siegfried was entirely composed of the sons and daughters of the middle-class, factory workers, mechanics, engineers, and everything else that could possibly be imagined to fit into said category.

That's exactly what made it so difficult to infiltrate; everyone knew each other, so it was hard to work your way into their little knots far enough to be useful.

Rai snorted derisively at the thought; he had thrown on a uniform, filled out some paperwork in the network, and walked up to a group of guys in their twenties; bam, he was sitting inside a communications hub on the West End.

"Oh yeah, I'll _never_ be able to infiltrate the "strongest Britannian military fortification in the world"…" the young man mocked Dmitri's initial dismissal of his plan. "Take that, you arrogant Russian prick," he growled under his breath.

"You say something, Rai?" one his "new comrades," a Corporal by the name of Smith, asked.

"Nah, just cussing out this damned weather," he replied easily. It was believable enough; a massive snowstorm had struck the entirety of the Saitama and Gunma prefectures, and visibility on both sides of the river was zero.

"I hear ya, man," a Private, Johnson, grunted as he stumbled into the bunker, shaking the snow off of his shoulders. "Just finished lookout in one of the forward pits on the edge of the river; those German fuckers nearly took us out with those damned five-inchers."

"Why the hell are those damned trains still running around?" Rai piped up curiously; seriously, he was wondering why no one had bombed Dmitri's little toys.

"All naval air support is sent out to sortie over the eastern ocean to try and suppress the Japanese navy," Smith shrugged. "We can barely afford to send out an Apache or a Little Bird, which is inevitably shot down by their Stingers. It's give-and-take, every single day; and we really don't have the resources to keep playing the game."

"'Resources' as in material, or lives?" Johnson snorted.

"All of the above." Smith motioned for his partner to shut the door, and he glanced down at his monitor. "Looks like we're getting some visitors…"

"Who are they?" Johnson asked.

"It's a couple of former Purists, by their unit designations."

"Purists?" Rai cut in; both of his Britannian comrades took a second note of their observer and his nationality, and then exchanged uncertain looks.

"Eh… they're some blue-bloods with major superiority complexes," Smith explained hesitantly, "They're of the belief that the only people who are worthy of serving in the Britannian military _are_ Britannians; and the richer ones, if their family names are any indication."

"Oh," the Japanese teenager blinked and then looked down at his lap uncertainly. Anyone who could recognize it would tell that he was definitely falling into his part, maybe even unsettlingly so.

"Ah, chin up, Uzuki!" Johnson chirped encouragingly, "Nobody is gonna even _think_ about touching you with us around; I'll make sure of it myself."

"Amen to that," Smith agreed confidently.

"Thanks, guys," Rai offered them a small smile; the fact that he could kill these 'Purists' before they could even blink had temporarily slipped his mind. He unconsciously palmed the standard-issue M9 pistol at his belt as he recalled that little fact.

A sergeant smacked the door open with his shoulder, shaking the snow from his cap. "UZUKI! You're gonna want to hide somewhere."

"The Purists, right?" Johnson drawled. The sergeant was a bit confused by their knowledge, but then realized that he had just walked into a relay station.

"Yes, actually; and get this – it's _Jeremiah Gottwald!_"

Smith and Johnson paled and swore in unison. "Okay Rai, you actually _might_ want to hide."

"Why?"

"He's the _leader of the Purists!_"

Son of a bitch. "Too late!" the sergeant called back, popping back into the bunker and slamming the steel door shut. "Fuck, fuck, fuck… Alright kiddo, stick a cap on your head and keep it low at a station; if we have _any_ luck in the world, he _might_ not notice you…"

Rai barely had time to comply before the half-inch thick steel door was kicked open. "**ATTEN-TION!"**

Everyone snapped up, though Rai kept his cap dipped over his eyes. A tall man with teal hair and peculiar tangerine eyes stepped in, his two followers brushing the snow from his long blue overcoat.

"At ease!" Jeremiah Gottwald declared, prompting Rai to drop back to his station, thus far unnoticed. "What's the story, gentlemen?" the Purist commander requested calmly.

"Nothing to report so far, _sir_!" Smith answered sharply.

"Any movement on the other side?"

"Sensors are incapable of operation through the blizzard, sir," Johnson reported, tapping the multiple-perspective screens.

"Well, I suppose it comes with the territory…" Gottwald sighed disappointedly. "Carry on." He made to move towards the door when his sweeping gaze locked onto Rai. "You there!"

Rai, Smith and Johnson commenced sweating buckets. The Purist leader walked over to Rai's station, and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"… Keep up the good work, soldier," he patted his shoulder twice and turned on his heel, exiting the bunker; his cronies followed closely, along with the poor beleaguered sergeant, and the door slammed shut.

The poor Japanese boy was pale as a sheet and sweating his own rainstorm as he sighed in relief. Smith and Johnson collapsed against their stations, wiping their brows and giving simultaneous sighs of relief.

"_THAT_… Was fucking _scary_…"

The three young men were snapped from the verge of joyous and hysterical laughter by a fresh volley of artillery slamming into the front side of their section of the wall with unreal accuracy.

"What the hell?!" Smith demanded as he climbed back to his feet, "How can those bastards see _anything_ through this shit?!"

"They must've planted a radar beacon somewhere along the wall while we couldn't see anything!" Johnson shouted back as shells started impacting one by one. "Shit, are those HEDP shells?!"

Rai was strapping on his issued snow gear and slinging an M4 over his shoulder. "This section's coming down, we've gotta get out of here!" he called out, tossing his comrades' gear to them.

The three men sprinted out of the bunker just as the approximately twentieth shell struck the front and side of the bunker, and the section immediately crumbled.

On the other side waited a _literal_ army of mercenaries, most on foot, accompanied by tanks, Fast Attack Vehicles, and the occasional scattered anti-tank or anti-personnel Knightmare.

"… Well son of a bitch," Johnson deadpanned. He looked over to Rai, who had perked up.

"Well, gentlemen, it's been nice knowing you," he grinned mischievously at his partners, who watched in shock as the teen waltzed straight over and plopped down on the front of a Type 10 MBT. "Oh, and you might want to surrender now!"

The two grunts complied, dropping their weapons and raising their hands as the BPG troops swarmed around them, moving down either side of the hundred-some mile long Siegfried Line, and securing it within the next few days.

As the process started, Dmitri walked up to Rai, who was chatting with a few of his Korean compatriots. "I cannot _believe_ that you just did that," the Russian ground out.

"Did what,_ oh high-and-mighty Colonel_? Did the job that you have been failing to do for the past week?" Rai shot back, his tone loaded with disdain and mockery. "And just so you know, Lelouch has _just_ promoted me; you're a Lieutenant Colonel, correct?"

"_Yes_," the Russian hissed, indefinitely positive that he wouldn't like the following news.

"Well then start saluting, Lieutenant Colonel Novikov; you're in the presence of _Colonel_ Rai Uzuki."

Dmitri saw red. He had worked for _years_ to worm his way into Lelouch's inner circle, all the while operating simultaneously as a Mafia enforcer in Japan. Then _this_ little upstart comes along, and is instantly fast-tracked into and then_ past_ the position that he had worked so hard to acquire.

He snapped.

"**Just **_**DIE, YOU LITTLE BASTARD!"**_ he roared, whipping out an Uzi and attempting to turn Rai into a standing corpse.

Said boy was much quicker on the draw, a tactical knife slipping from his sleeve; he drew his arm back, and at barely twenty feet, sent the blade spinning through the air.

The five-inch blade imbedded itself up to the grip in Dmitri's forehead, and the Russian's eyes went wide and vacant. Rai stepped forward and gripped the handle of the knife, kicking the enforcer's chest for the leverage to remove it with a bloody _schick_. The body crumpled to the ground, a steady stream of blood rolling down his face, and staining the pure white snow a deep crimson.

Rai's expression was impassive, as were those of Dmitri's own guards; they had been briefed about this situation by Lelouch when they were assigned to the Lieutenant Colonel's command.

_**Flashback**_

_Rai nervously stepped into the top-floor office of the BPG headquarters in Sapporo, understandably anxious about meeting the young man who he had found out to be the commander of the entire PMC in Japan. Behind him, two confused German officers took positions on the back wall of the room, incapable of uncovering a reason as to why their superior would require their presence._

"_Gentlemen," Lelouch greeted casually, sitting in a high-backed office chair with his feet propped on his excessively-large mahogany desk. "Thank you for coming. Please, have a seat."_

_The officers and the teen complied, settling into the comfortable chairs in front of the desk. _

"_I've called you here today, because there has been a recent… Discrepancy, that has been brought to my attention." He steepled his fingers in front of his face, and leaned forward. "Wilhelm and Schulz – you two have served on the staff of Lieutenant Colonel Dmitri Novikov since he was first promoted to an executive rank. I trust that you are aware of his 'secondary employment'?" At the slow nods of the German men, Lelouch's visage became grave. "Dmitri has been an enforcer for the Russian Mafia for seven years now, and since he joined our ranks a year ago, he has been nothing but cooperative."_

"_However, within the last month, he has been increasingly distant, and his extracurricular activities highly suspicious. My theories regarding this situation have been proven unfortunately, when last week; he attempted to sell off thirty percent of his recovered cargo from raiding to his original employers, along with several schematics and maps of our facilities." The lower officers' eyes widened, and they were openly gaping; Rai was still wondering what the hell this had to do with him. _

_He was quickly answered. "Rai, I have brought you here because you have proven yourself competent and trustworthy, along with possessing no past criminal associations; you are a clean slate, and I intend to make use of you." He reached into a drawer and retrieved an official-looking dossier, which he tossed to the Japanese boy. _

"_Dmitri is quickly becoming a liability. He has served us loyally for his time with us, but in recent times, very few can be trusted. We are mere months away from cutting our ties to the Mafia; he will simply have to be a part of the severance package." He withdrew a small box, which contained a pair of stylized vulture lapel pins – pins which denoted the rank of Colonel. He tossed this to the startled Japanese teen._

"_Rai, you will earn your keep in the coming months. I am assigning you to Dmitri's unit; you will be his new second. You will be a cheeky, infuriating teenager, who will rise through the ranks quickly, much to the ire of your direct superior. He will snap when you rise above him, and he will most likely try to kill you."_

"_When he attempts this… You will kill _him_ instead. Upon completion of this task, all records of Dmitri Novikov will be erased; you will take his place, and you shall achieve eternal infamy in the eyes of the world as the Black Panzer Group writes itself into the annals of history, as one of the few organizations to best the Britannian Empire."_

_It was exactly what he had been seeking when he first sought out Lelouch and the BPG. He would be forever remembered. _

"_I accept." _

_**End Flashback**_

"This is it…" Rai declared, excitement evident in his voice, "They'll never overlook me now!"

Newly-promoted Captains Wilhelm and Schulz were genuinely happy for their new superior.

**End Part 3.**

* * *

><p><strong>News Update – On the Brink<strong>

_As of December 11__th__, 2017 ATB, the Britannian Army Defensive Fortification "Siegfried" has fallen to the forces of the Black Panzer Group, marking the fall of the last line of Britannian defense standing between insurgent forces and the Tokyo Settlement, final stronghold of Britannia in Area 11. _

_Several tremendous events preceded this startling occurrence. Earlier in the week, Second Prince of the Empire, Schneizel el Britannia was captured by guerilla forces, and his fleet was destroyed in the seas south of mainland Area 11. Enemy submarine strikes crippled Admiral William Halsey's Taskforce 374 at anchorage in Area 12; casualties were absolute, and several guerilla groups have taken responsibility, as well as stepped up their offensives in the area. _

_Second Princess Cornelia li Britannian reports that 'The situation is bleak; even I, the Goddess of Victory, am unfortunately incapable of overcoming such odds as a hundred to one.'_

_Riots continue in the homeland, with an alarming increase in frequency; the latest uprising in Pendragon required the intervention of the Emperor's own Royal Guard to diffuse. Political analysts have summarized that should even a single area fall out of Britannian control completely, 98__th__ Emperor Charles zi Britannia will undoubtedly be forced to abdicate the throne, or be overthrown and no doubt executed by either the military, or one of his own heirs._

_In other news, the BPG's Public Relations Officer, 35 year-old Dmitri Novikov was killed in action during the Siegfried Offensive; taking his place is 18 year-old Rai Uzuki, the first Eleven _and_ the first of his age to achieve such an executive position in a private military organization, besides Lelouch Lamperouge himself. _

_This has been Adrianna Livingston with the BBC, Area 11 – signing off indefinitely._

* * *

><p><strong>End Note:<strong>** Word to the wise: don't read crack when you're trying to write something like this. Honestly, it's just not a good idea. **

**THE END IS NEAR! Next up: THE FINAL BATTLE FOR TOKYO! May or may not include a separate epilogue afterwards, or just incorporate it into the last chapter. **

**So many bridges to burn, so little time...**

**-KFR**


	13. Act 3 Pt 4

**A/N: This is the end. Final chapter (barring an epilogue) of Rebirth of a Nation. What happens after that… Well, it was written to shock you.**

**Enjoy the final installment.**

**Part 4**** – ****_"This isn't a war... This is the greatest farce in history."_**

* * *

><p><strong>December 23<strong>**rd****, 2017 ATB  
>0400 hours<br>Edge of Saitama Ghetto**

"Their defenses are crumbling! _PRESS THE OFFENSIVE!" _

Tokyo bore witness to a crimson dawn as the black-clad soldiers of the Black Panzer Group made their first advance into Tokyo, crippling the meager Britannian defenses in the bombed-out buildings and pressing into the ghettos.

Britannian tanks sat at roadblocks all throughout the remains of the city that formerly constituted the east Saitama Prefecture, but the infantry ruled the streets. A major part of the BPG's original training regime consisted of Parkour, or as most called it, free running (the two were different concepts in actuality, but most considered it semantics). Therefore it wasn't terribly strange when one spotted an entire squad of mercenaries in light kit, running along and jumping between rooftops, vaulting over obstacles, and generally adroitly raising havoc among the already-beleaguered Britannian defenders.

Lelouch himself lead the advance teams, and currently stood atop the remains of a twenty-some story skyscraper, scanning the streets and buildings below for resistance.

Along the roof beside him stood and sat his personnel staff/bodyguards, armed with G-36A2 rifles and 88mm Light Anti-tank Weapons. The commander pointed to a target, and a man would raise his rifle or LAW and put it down without hesitation.

Britannian snipers would pop up occasionally and try to eighty-six them, but the counter-snipers within the building below, as well as the structures around them, would eliminate the threat almost immediately.

"Friendly tanks have begun advancing along the main avenue," the radioman reports, pointing down to a column of Type 10 MBTs and BMP-3 armored personnel carriers.

"Send Jegal, Cheng, Walters and Isaacson to put up support along the route," Lelouch replied vacantly, his eyes fixed on the shining Settlement in the distance. "Send Rai's assault units through the lower levels behind enemy lines, and have sappers lace the side routes."

"Orders confirmed, Commander."

"Pack it in; we're advancing to the next sector," he ordered, slinging his pack across his shoulders and strapping his rifle at his waist. SMG in hand, the German-Britannian teen took a running start, and pushed off the edge of the roof.

He crossed nearly forty yards, and fell five stories; he bent his knees and landed on an adjacent rooftop, somersaulting on landing to absorb the shock. His squad was following confidently, imitating the maneuver and chasing after as he begun the two-mile trek across the skyline to their next destination.

Five buildings and three hundred yards later, they happened upon a Britannian forward observation post inside an eighteen-story building, on the upper levels.

They ducked low behind the edge of the adjacent rooftop, and one by one, made the jump to the other building. Lelouch started off first, running and jumping across the five-yard gap to the edge of the fifteenth floor, and quickly muscling up the side, one level at a time.

He gripped the cement edge of the next level up in contour-grip fingers, and in a single pull-up movement, muscled himself up to the next section.

War and Parkour – the only two activities that could give him that truly satisfying adrenaline rush. Put the two together – he was unstoppable.

He finally reached the seventeenth floor, and encountered an intact window; grasping his pistol by the barrel, he smashed the pane, and cleared the glass shards along the bottom. Two of his subordinates to his sides followed suit, and the group barreled in with reckless abandon.

The hallway into which they entered was thankfully empty, but from the sounds of pounding feet around them, this wouldn't last long. The last three men remained outside for the moment, while the others took up positions along the hall inside. Switching to his MP5K, Lelouch pressed his form up in a doorway, and peeked his head out to the left; Britannian soldiers, a radio intercept team by their uniforms, rushed straight into the hall. He threw his arm out around the corner and fired blindly, a trained grip managing to keep the weapon relatively stable.

His men were right along with him, firing various assault weapons and cutting down the Britannians quickly; once the fire subsided, they took the bodies and tossed them out the broken windows when everyone was inside.

They proceeded through the deadly silent halls quickly and quietly, searching out a stairwell; when they found it, blocked off by fallen rubble and hastily-thrown furniture, those plans changed.

"Find an elevator shaft," Lelouch ordered. They quickly did just that, locating the open shaft; the elevator was stopped at the floor below.

The teen motioned for them to hold back as he took a running start, and quickly ran and jumped for height and distance, catching his grip on the edge of one of the supporting tiers within the shaft. After two more muscle-ups, he turned on the edge and took out a two-by-two-by-four block of C4, and affixed it to the closed door.

This was a very dangerous maneuver; despite the relatively small charge of the explosive, firing it off in an unstable structure like this could prove a fatal mistake.

He dove back into the seventeenth floor and backed away from the shaft, depressing the trigger. There was a loud thump from the space above, and smoke billowed down the shaft from above; thankfully, the ceiling and their level doorway remained intact, indicating relative stability.

Lelouch quickly repeated his same maneuver, and once gripping the edge adjacent to the door, pushed off and all but backflipped into the next floor.

He was greeted by a Britannian sniper team armed with pistols, both men's hands shaking at the sight of the infamous teenager. Lelouch offered them a mischievous grin and, faster than either of them could blink, drew his Glock and unloaded three rounds into each of them.

He tossed their bodies down the shaft, and the impact proved too much weight for the unstable elevator car to handle; the seven year-old fraying cables snapped violently, and the entire module free-fell to the bottom with a spectacular crash.

The team took this as an indication to follow the commander. They repeated his maneuver four at a time, swinging in and taking each wall, diving into the top floor one at a time.

"All here?" Lelouch asked, doing a quick headcount. "Good; it looks like the rest of the staff bailed out, but they left a rudimentary map of troop deployments; we need to hang back for a bit while we get this transmitted to the center force."

While half of the team set about this task, Lelouch and the other half established defensive positions.

One radioman quickly tuned into a frequency acquired from one of his dead Britannian counterparts, and he quickly dove to the floor. _"GET DOWN!"_

Without warning, a pair of Hellfire missiles struck the side of the building, shaking the entire structure violently. "It was a trap!" the first man elaborated, "There was a gunship on standby to ace this place as soon as contact was lost with the station!"

"_Shit_," Lelouch swore venomously, resting against a window frame and glancing out quickly; sure enough, an AH-6 Little Bird hovered outside, a pair of seven-shot missile pods affixed to its hardpoints. In addition, a sniper was hanging out of the open copilot's door, sweeping the floors for a target. "Automatic weapons! Find one, quickly!"

A pile of weapons crates occupied a corner of the room, tossed about by the impact. Three men quickly checked each crate, tossing any empty crates out of a side window.

"I've got an M240!" one of them announced victoriously, hefting the medium machine gun above his head.

"I've got a few cases!" a second raised two of the hundred-round ammunition boxes.

"I've got a bunch of rocks," the third said wryly, lifting the crate lid to show it full of crushed rock.

There was silence before the other burst out laughing at the poor man's expense.

"Alright, set up on that other wall!" Lelouch gestured to a window that was out of the chopper's current line of sight, "We'll lure them over!"

The two with the gun and ammo set up, while the rest took up windows; once the MG was in place, they started popping out one by one, taking pot shots at the Little Bird and drawing it towards the other wall.

Lelouch, sitting at the corner, had to stick his entire upper half out of one of the windows, firing a long burst at the gunship; he ducked back just in time to evade the 7.62 sniper round that impacted behind where his head had been. "He's all yours, gents!" he called out to the pair over the roar of the aircraft's blades.

Bipod resting on the window sill, the M240 swiveled in the direction of the gunship as it came into the line of fire; the pilot spotted it and tried to back off, but the stream of fire simply traced his path. The bullets finally peppered the windscreen and then shattered it, followed closely by a burst of red erupting across the remainder of the glass. The chopper spiraled out of control, and fell into the streets below, the wreck detonating on impact.

"Good show, boys. Pack it in, we still have over a mile and a half to go." The mercenaries let out a chorus of groans, but otherwise followed their young commander.

**0700 hours  
>Edge of Tokyo Settlement<strong>

The ghettos fell in a matter of hours. The BPG was evidently superior to all in urban warfare, which is exactly why Britannia's most vehement last defense rested on the boundaries between the Settlement and the Ghetto. Once again, instacrete defenses outlined the areas, over twenty feet high and pockmarked with missile slits and murder holes. Buildings on all sides were fortified similarly, and the bulk of the remaining Britannian forces manned the defenses with desperation and fatigue evident.

BPG artillery had been pounding at the doors since they secured the ghettos, but the Britannian Special Forces proved crafty in their current state of mind. Guerilla warfare raged on all sides; neither side was capable of securing any point of the underground subway line, and thusly, attackers could pop up from just about anywhere. Green Berets and Delta operators struck artillery positions with surgical precision once pinpointed, and when another popped up, it would quickly follow. The battle was proving to be hard-fought from the get-go, and every time the assault ended, each side repaired and rearmed to start the process over again.

Colonel Rai Uzuki wasn't a patient young man; he was eighteen, for Christ's sake! But his tank column was left sitting scattered about the central avenue, and in underground parking garages, waiting for the signal to finally push the offensive.

However, after an hour of waiting, it obviously wouldn't be coming anytime soon.

"_DAMMIT!"_ the white-haired Japanese teen swore loudly, echoing the unspoken sentiments of his surrounding staff. "What is taking them so long?!"

"_I'm a soldier, not a miracle worker, Rai,"_ Lelouch's voice answered over the radio.

"Can you at least explain the situation, then?!"

"_Britannian Special Forces, they're choosing_ just now_ to be open-minded about their approach. Bastards have taken to guerilla warfare, and unfortunately, they're fairly adept in the field; the underground is a major foot network, and it's a free-for-all down there."_

"Son of a bitch," Rai groaned. "Is there anything I can do?"

"_Contribute a few engineers and security officers to the underground to set up some choke points around the artillery positions, and we might be able to give you some space to work."_

"It's done." The connection cut out abruptly, and Rai turned to his Troop Allocation Officer. "Move the Third Platoon down into Loop Line Six, and set up a line of MG emplacements and cement barriers."

"Kang's unit?" the officer raised a brow incredulously. "You want to give a task this important to a nut like Kang?!"

"He's not a nut, he's _unpredictable_," Rai corrected the man, "And that is what makes him effective. Send out the order."

"Yes, sir…"

**0730 hours  
>Checkpoint Delta-Niner, Tokyo-Saitama Divide<strong>

Both of the men were partially correct; Korean Second Lieutenant Chul Kang was indeed a nut, but he was also quite effective. With his defenses in place, one artillery position was finally able to crack open a Britannian checkpoint. However, actually _passing _the checkpoint was proving almost as difficult as cracking it.

The shattered hulks of various armored vehicles were quickly filling the gap, and anti-tank teams were racking up killscores at an alarming rate on both sides.

Rai finally snapped, and lead the assault himself.

The teen leveled his trusty AK around the corner, and seeing nothing, pressed on into the alley, followed closely by the BPG equivalent of Special Forces, in the form of a team of former Korean commandos. Sixty of these men were scattered about the labyrinth of alleyways, all with the frustrated and single-minded goal of tearing into the Britannian defenses with righteous fury.

The colonel reached an area identified as the edge of the defenses, and discovered a twenty-five foot high instacrete wall where an alley exit should've been. Rai was undeterred as a small cement barrier was moved into place, and a recoilless rifle propped on it and loaded with HEDP rounds.

With thirty men on either side of the alleyway, the first shell slammed into the wall, cracking a large section the width of the wall, and a third of the depth.

"_Reload!"_

Second; more concrete was blasted away, and small cracks of light shone through.

"_Reload!"_

Number three was the killer. The shell slammed in, and blew a hole straight through the wall, roughly seven feet high and wide; Britannian soldiers waited on the other side of the gap for the smoke and dust to clear.

"_Load Area-Defense Munitions!"_

'Oh shit' was the general consensus on the business end of the barrel. The tell-tale thump of the gun came, and was followed by a solid wave of subsonic shrapnel, which tore into the troopers unfortunate enough to be in its path.

The gun was moved aside as the BPG commandos charged in through the gap, firing an assortment of assault rifles, and P90 submachine guns; the 5.7mm bullets were designed specifically to rip through body armor, so it had no trouble with the meager web gear of the Britannian foot soldiers.

The defenders foolishly dropped back from the central avenue, letting up on the fire long enough for the BPG technicals to dive through the gap and rip into the infantry on the other side of the wall. A Panzer Hummel and two Sutherlands followed closely, marking the final fall of Checkpoint Delta-Niner.

"Crafty bastards…" Lelouch growled as he listened to the reports of Rai's unit. Apparently, Britannian defenses on the other side of the line had been divided into isolated cells; instead of continuous defensive lines, these lays had been divvyed up with vertical barricades and security officers. So, instead of the entire line dissolving as Siegfried did, the infiltrators were trapped in an individual pocket of fire, forcing them to work through the streets building by building.

"I hate this job_ SO MUCH_!" Rai paced about the FCC gripping his hair in frustration.

"Calm down and take a seat, Rai," Lelouch snapped, prompting his junior (by barely a month) to stuff his hands in his pockets and flop back in a desk chair. "Wars aren't won in a day; battles perhaps, but definitely not wars."

"I know…" the Japanese teenager groaned, running a hand over his face, "But still, we've had such _overwhelming success_ so far, and being slowed to this kind of pace is just… Maddening!"

"Yes, I _know_," Lelouch grunted sternly, "I'm the one who is supposed to be producing those kinds of results, remember? I'm being watched by every military and political figure _in the world_ right now. Our success or failure here will decide the fate of both Japan _and_ Britannia."

"Oh, _right_…" the white-haired boy was suddenly chuckling sheepishly.

"That's right," the commander deadpanned at his second. "So just calm down and leave the thinking to me; when I give you the word, you get to charge in and wreak havoc. Sound good?"

"Yeah, I'm good."

**0900 hours  
>Twenty miles off of Chiba Coast<strong>

With only a small front between Yamanashi and Tokyo in which the GSDF was able to operate, and the Saitama front taken entirely by the BPG, the majority of the Self-Defense Force was left to make their attacks from the sea.

A large portion of the MSDF's coastal assault craft had been drawn inward to ferry the assault force, which was comprised of over fifty thousand troops, broken into four divisions. The largest division would be landed on the southern peninsula, from Nojimazaki Point and to the north; the rest was broken up along the remaining accessible coastline.

Britannia had easily caught wind of the impending invasion, and all land-based aircraft had been turned to locating and destroying the flotilla; but despite their best efforts, the force remained undiscovered. It unfortunately wouldn't last long, though.

The fleet consisted of nearly a dozen amphibious assault and command ships; several smaller landing craft; a smattering of destroyer escorts and guided missile cruisers; and a single aircraft carrier, the _Ise_.

Coastal batteries had their approach vector locked down; it was up to the fighters and bombers to clear a lane.

Captain Rei Shizuka of Crane Squadron finished pre-flight checks on his F-2A, and turned to the rest of his squadron.

Kobi, Mori and Reiko had all been promoted to First Lieutenant, and given a new aircraft – the F-35C _Kaminari-San_.

Once outfitted for air-to-ground combat, the four legendary fighter pilots prepared themselves for one of their final sorties. The squadron shared a final drink, and when the very minor buzz wore off, went out to their planes.

They would be supported once again by _Ookami_ and _Kaminari_ Squadrons, the same from Narita.

"This is Tsuru One to all planes, is everything Oscar-Kilo?" Rei asked as he strapped himself into his crash webbing.

"_Tsuru Two, green light,"_ Kobi Yamata replied impassively.

"_This is Tsuru Three, I'm good to go,"_ Mori Takahashi agreed.

"_Tsuru Four, I'm ready to kick some Britannian ass!"_ the ever-cheerful Reiko Yurei cheered.

"_Ookami_, _Kaminari_, is everything go on your end?"

"_**This is Ookami One, we're all set over here; good luck everyone."**_

"_**Kaminari is Oscar-Kilo; let's all come back safe."**_

"Alright then, everybody," Rei finished as his plane was pulled to the hydraulic catapult, "Operation _Land of the Free_ is GO!"

His F-2 was launched into the air alongside the Ookami lead, and the pair circled the ships until everyone was airborne.

Each plane was equipped with the standard four R-73 short-range missiles, along with a special weapons reserve of either four Long-range Air-to-Surface (LASM) missiles, or four Unguided Bombs (UGBs). All planes were outfitted with the new standard GSh-301 30mm autocannon, which carried eight hundred rounds of ammunition.

As the Britannian coastal defenses came into view, the twelve pilots were instantly greeted by radar-lock warnings, which were quickly accompanied by missile warning alarms. On the rocky shores, nearly two dozen surface-to-air missile batteries opened up in unison, some even firing multiple projectiles.

"All planes, disperse chaff and flares and double-time to the shore! Let's take out those launchers!"

"_**Roger!"**_ From behind each plane a massive wave of colored smoke and bright red flares spread across the sky as the fighters climbed rapidly, leaving the SAMs to impact or lose tracking within the cloud.

The squadrons hit ten thousand feet and twisted into dives, selecting targets and performing evasive maneuvers on their way down as each craft bypassed Mach 1. Some of the batteries attempted to fire off a second volley, and a few flak batteries tried to bring them down with manual fire; it was all for naught, as cannon fire swept the cliffs and beaches, destroying fifteen of the twenty-four batteries in mere moments.

"_Climb, climb, climb!"_

The process started anew, and within another minute, the missile pads were cleared. A few flak batteries remained, but they were swept aside on an afterthought.

The pilots' collective attention turned to the artillery emplacements, which were either hidden in large patches of foliage, under camouflage netting, or protected within bunkers. _Ookami_ broke off to deal with the bunkers, which could only be penetrated if the projectile was fire and impacted somewhere around the viewport; the rest acquired radar locks on the exposed positions and opened up.

In short, it was a slaughter; not exactly the great air battle that they were expecting.

They thought too soon.

"_Heads up, guys; I'm reading three enemy squadrons heading this way from Tokyo, approach vector two-six-zero!"_

Rei finished his run on one of the last emplacements and looked up in time to see the newcomers.

While the fleet had been successful in impeding naval traffic, several new fighter craft had been flown in to replace the destroyed, or simply supplement the Tokyo garrison. Among those newcomers had been several brand-new or even prototype aircraft; this one was undoubtedly the scariest.

Nine of the new arrivals were F-22A Raptor Interceptors, lauded as the most effective air-to-air combat fighter in the world (barring Scandinavia's prototype XO-2 Wyvern). The other three, however, were a new make of frightening ability, said to be semi space-capable.

The ADFX-02 Morgan was the pinnacle of modern technology, with a swept-wing design and two massive Pratt & Whitney F119-PW-300 Pitch Thrust vectoring Turbofans, with afterburners capable of producing in excess of forty thousand pounds of thrust. Its standard armaments were an M84A3 35mm cannon with six hundred rounds of ammunition, _eight_ AIM-90X2 high-maneuverability short-range missiles, and the pilot's preference of either an M-1X _Tactical Laser System_, or four externally-mounted AIM-160X _Homing Burst Missiles_!

Yeah… This was very, _**very**_ bad. Some other industrial rumors included, but were not limited to: a secondary Sakuradite powerplant somewhere within the fighter, which increased operations life by a factor of _five_; space capability, proven at one point by a flight to the moon and back; and a prototype three hundred and sixty degree cockpit camera system, codenamed "COFFIN" (Connection For Flight Interface). The only confirmed was the latter.

"Son of a _fucking_ bitch!" Rei cursed vehemently as the newcomers broke to engage. "All units split them up and engage them one-on-one! They're probably just some more Britannian nobility upstarts."

"**Wrong guess, Captain Shizuka,"** one of the enemy pilots chuckled. **"You are facing the ultimate aces of the Britannian Air Force – Sixth Air Division, Sixty-Sixth Tactical Fighter Squadron: Galm."**

Nail in the coffin, pun intended.

"_Captain, the BPG has sent a reinforcing squadron; ETA is five minutes,"_ Mori reported, grunting slightly from the G-forces of his next series of evasive maneuvers as an enemy pilot locked onto him.

"Alright, we just have to hold out for those reinforcements!" Rei called to the others, firing an R-73 straight into an oncoming enemy fighter; the missile seemed to shred the front section of the aircraft before detonating.

"**Dammit, Galm Nine just went down!"** one of the enemy pilots growled, **"Target that enemy flight lead!"**

All at once, Rei found his alarms blaring as three different 90X2 missiles were fired at his craft; he executed a rapid barrel roll as the first approached, sending it flying completely past to detonate prematurely. The second quickly locked onto his trail, but the Ace immediately accelerated and then cut his engines, turning the nose skyward and allowing the craft to fall, passing just below the missile, which was unable to follow. He rotated the plane nose-down and regained a controlled flight path just as the third picked up his signature, and the plane and missile dove earthward rapidly.

Rei leveled out barely three hundred feet above the landscape, but unfortunately, the missile followed. He jinked, weaved and rolled, but the projectile simply hung back and followed his trail. Finally, he was flying a mere hundred feet above sea level, and headed straight for the cliffs.

The rocky shelf was getting closer; three thousand… two… one…

_PULL UP!_ He executed the maneuver, and very narrowly managed to avoid scraping the rocks below; the missile wasn't so lucky, striking the cliffs and detonating.

Rei gave a sigh of relief and fixed his harnesses, climbing back into the engagement. Up top, he discovered that two more of the enemy F-22s had gone down, but at the cost of three _Kaminari_ pilots; their flight lead was all that remained.

"_Kaminari _One, disengage; you're out of ammo, and on bingo fuel," Rei ordered.

"_**Dammit Rei, I can still fight!"**_ the pilot protested vehemently, but as he watched his target evade his last missile, he sighed in resignation. _**"Alright; Kaminari One, pulling out."**_ One of the enemy Raptors attempted to pursue, but Rei himself put a missile into his thruster, sending the plane spiraling into the sea.

"**Let him go,"** the enemy leader ordered, **"Focus on those other two flight leads!"**

One of the enemy Morgans quickly took up pursuit of Rei, using complex cut-and-run maneuvers to keep on his trail; the Crane squadron leader winced as 35mm shells ripped past his plane.

"Kobi, come get this guy off of me!"

"_On it, boss!"_ Kobi's F-35 broke off pursuit of a Raptor and fell into the trail of the Morgan; the enemy pilot carelessly kept his flight path, but Rei felt something was off.

Without warning, a missile fired from the Morgan – _backwards_.

"_ENEMY BURST MISSILE! I CAN'T EVADE!"_

The sky behind the Morgan lit up in a bright flash; a white sphere bloomed at the point of impact, and Kobi's plane disappeared straight into it.

"_**KOBI!"**_

_Tsuru_ Two… was down. Kobi was unable to eject in time.

"**HA! Galm Five, splash one!"** the enemy pilot crowed victoriously.

Rei's expression was blank. His mind was still catching up with what had just happened…

He suddenly jerked back on the throttle, nearly stalling as the Morgan shot past him.

"**What the-"**

"_Tsuru_ One, guns, guns, guns." The 30mm cannon flashed, and the shells ripped into the tail of the Morgan, chewing through the afterburners; a round lanced into the lower ordinance bay, and Rei broke off sharply as the plane went up in a series of bright flashes as the missiles within detonated. "Splash one," he reported tonelessly.

"**Galm Five just went down! What the hell happened?!"**

"_Tsuru_ One, I have a lock; Fox Two." Another Raptor went up in a grand blast.

"**Another one?! Dammit!"**

"_**This is Ookami Three, I'm bailing out!" **_The _Ookami_ pilot's canopy blew away, and he ejected just as the plane was taken out by a Morgan's missile.

"_**Ookami Two, he's too close! I can't shake him!"**_

"_**Hang in there Taki, I'm coming!"**_

"_**He's too close! He's-!"**_ the pilot was cut off as a volley of cannon fire sliced through his plane, and he hit the rocky shores – no ejection.

"_**SHIT! This is Ookami One, I'm bingo on ammo, I've gotta pull out!"**_

"_**This is Number Four, I'm the same. Tsuru, I'm sorry to do this to you guys."**_

"Forget it, _Ookami_, just get out of here!" Rei replied, dicing up a Raptor that was pursuing his comrades.

"**Ha, five to three? This'll be easy!"** One of the Morgan pilots fell into line behind Mori.

"_I can't shake him, Rei!" _

"Bail out Mori, he's got a laser!" Rei shouted back, eying the large laser module fixed between the Morgan's thrusters.

"_Tsuru Three, ejecting!"_ Mori flew from his cockpit just as the module lit up, and the glowing red beam _sliced _through the F-35, after which the fuel tanks detonated.

"Reiko… Get going," Rei ordered.

"_But Rei, I've still got fuel and cannon rounds left!"_ the woman protested, dodging an enemy missile and swinging around; she then let out a cry as a Raptor's cannon chewed through her left wing.

"I said GO, Reiko!" the captain barked, leaving no room for argument.

She hesitated for another moment before swinging around. _"Come back safe, Rei."_

"I can't promise anything, Reiko. I've gotta stop these guys."

"_With two missiles and six hundred rounds of ammo?!"_

"Whatever it takes." He cut off the channel and turned to face the daunting odds; two Morgans and three Raptors flew before him.

"**This'll be a piece of cake!"** one of the Britannian pilots declared confidently. The man ate his words as Rei's F-2 shot straight towards them, his cannon blazing; the rounds peppered the nose of a Raptor, and his comrades were close enough to see a bloom of red splatter across the inside of his canopy, right before it fell.

"**Don't get cocky! His reserves don't matter, this guy is still an Ace!"** the enemy leader barked harshly.

"**S-sorry, boss!"**

Rei turned hard, groaning mentally as the G-forces pounded his flight-weary body. He pulled out of the turn behind another Raptor, and fired a missile at point-blank into its tail; the fighter went down, but the blast rocked Rei's own plane as he passed a little too close to the detonation.

The Japanese ace shouted in surprise as the Morgan with the laser fired a beam at him, cutting off the tip of his right wing and unbalancing the plane. The enemy leader then fired off a cannon burst, the rounds peppering the left side of his fighter; warning alarms blared all around him.

"**Say goodnight, you filthy Eleven!"** one of the Raptor pilots cackled, and Rei's missile alarm blared.

The world around them seemed to slow… Rei watched in silent acceptance as the missile flew towards his plane. "Reiko… I'm sorry."

Suddenly, the missile exploded before contact.

"**What the hell?!"**

"_**Heh… You pathetic wannabes."**_ A cannon volley lanced out from somewhere to the north, tracing the path of the Raptor and riddling it; the plane fell a bit before detonating.

"**What just happened?!"** the other Raptor pilot shouted, but then gasped as a missile appeared from seemingly nowhere, slamming into his wing; the plane spiraled out of control, and smashed into the ground below.

"**So… It's you,"** the second Morgan pilot growled.

"_**That's right… And I must say, I'm flattered by the imitation." **_A lone F-15 Silent Eagle fell in alongside Rei's battered plane. _**"You alright there, Tsuru One?"**_

"Not to sound ungrateful, but… Who the hell are you?" Rei demanded, falling back slightly, allowing the other plane to pull ahead of him and into missile range.

"_**I may or may not decide to tell you, one day,"**_ the new pilot replied enigmatically, _**"But for now, let's take care of these bastards, eh?" **_

"**So… The Demon Lord returns," **the Britannian flight lead declared gravely.

"_**I must say that I'm surprised at you, Larry. I thought we were just two simple mercenaries… And then you turn around and try to stab me in the back, literally." **_

"**This game has changed, 'buddy'," **Larry growled back, **"I'm just playing for the better team."**

"_**Better? Look around you, Larry,"**_ the 'Demon Lord' said, _**"Do these people that you're fighting with look like the 'better team', or even the 'winning team' to you?!"**_

"**ENOUGH TALK! We'll settle this here and now!"**

"_**My thought exactly."**_ The Silent Eagle broke off from Rei's wing. _**"You think you can handle that other Morgan while I take care of an old friend?"**_

"I can handle it," Rei grunted in reply.

"_**Then don't go dying on me while I take care of business."**_

Rei turned to face the second Morgan while the other two squared off. "_Tsuru_ One… Engaging."

"**That's a laugh," **his adversary spat mockingly, **"Some Eleven nobody like you thinks that they can fight a **_**true**_** Ace like me, Anthony Bristow, the **_**Sorcerer**_**?"**

"I don't think that I can fight you, no," Rei allowed himself a small smirk, "I _know_ that I can _shoot you down_."

"**Spoken like a true dead man,"** Bristow growled. He accelerated and shot past Rei at over Mach 2, the shockwave rattling the little F-2. The Morgan then partially cut its engines and flipped in midair, coming around to trail Rei and reactivating his engines. **"This machine will be the instrument of your demise!"**

"It's not the plane that makes the pilot, Bristow. It's the other way around."

"**JUST SHUT UP AND DIE!"** The Morgan accelerated, and Rei saw the glow of the charging TLS; he pulled up sharply, trying to ignore the sharp pain in his chest from the pressure. The beam shot past directly below him, but he pulled upside-down and then cut the engines, stalling out and falling nose-down, straight at Bristow.

"**Wha-!"**

"FOX TWO!" The R-73 lanced out and adjusted its vector, coming down at supersonic speeds and slamming into the top side of the Morgan, obliterating the cockpit. The wreckage freefell and slammed into the ocean's surface, sinking into its depths, never to be recovered.

"_**That was a pretty sweet move,"**_ Rei's impromptu partner commented from his part of the sky; the Japanese Ace looked over at the other dogfight, and was completely stunned.

It could hardly even be called a battle… All of the movements were so fluid, so graceful; every turn, every shot, every last maneuver, it was all like a carefully choreographed and orchestrated dance.

The invasion had begun below; landing craft made for the shores, and the soldiers charging onto the beaches looked like ants from their level. But then the battle had paused; all eyes were turned skyward, watching the epic final battle between the mercenary and his former friend.

"**Come on then, buddy,"** Larry grunted, **"Shoot me down; just try to stop me. All it would take is **_**one**_** of these missiles I have, and that entire invasion down there is dead in the water for the Britannians!"**

"_**Try to fire then, Larry,"**_ the 'Demon Lord' replied coolly, _**"I guarantee that the second you level out to make that run, I'll put you down."**_

"**Well then… COME ON AND STOP ME!"** the Britannian pilot roared, firing a volley of missiles at his opponent, who executed an elegant Immelman, and came to bear on the Morgan.

"_**See you around, Larry,"**_ the mysterious pilot said, and fired a single missile into the front of the oncoming aircraft; the carefully-aimed projectile flew low and slid straight into one of the Morgan's air intake ports, detonating and blowing away the left side of the plane.

"_**Well, that was my last one,"**_ the mercenary pilot sighed. The Morgan looked to be going down.

The enemy plane then spontaneously shot up at the merc; Rei detected the movement, and dove into the fray, guns blazing away with the last of his cannon ammunition.

The rounds cut straight into the only remaining engine, and a small detonation came; the Morgan was finally dead. The crimson plane fell to Earth, and the wreckage disappeared into the clear blue sea.

"… _**I always knew he was a tenacious bastard,"**_ the 'Demon Lord' offered a half-chuckle. _**"Thanks for the assist, Captain. I may or may not see you around."**_

"My last question for you," Rei called after him, "… What do I call you?"

"… _**Call me Cipher."**_ The Silent Eagle slipped away over the mainland, and he disappeared out of sight and off of the radar.

Rei said no more as he turned and burned back to the carrier; upon return, he was nearly hugged to death by Reiko; he also discovered that Mori was crippled during the ejection, and Kobi was definitely dead.

The aerial engagement that would go down in history as the first and last great dogfight of the Third Pacific War was finished; the invasion of Chiba Prefecture was a rousing success. Mori Takahashi was forced to retire because of his injuries; Reiko Yurei spent the rest of her career as a Lieutenant Colonel, behind a desk at the new Air Self-Defense Force headquarters in Iruma.

Rei Shizuka stayed on long enough to see the end of the war, and then retired on merit; he left Japan with a single fully-stocked F-2A fighter jet, and was never heard of by name again.

The body of Larry Foulke, the leader of the Britannian Galm Squadron, was never recovered.

When asked about the engagement, Black Panzer Group air detachment staff denies ever having dispatched any form of fighter support to Nojimazaki Point; the story behind the mysterious fighter pilot known as the 'Demon Lord' remains untold. Sightings of this pilot are reported all over the world, fighting for the underdogs in small rebellions in scattered third-world countries. In 2018, he is reported to appear with a partner, flying an F-2A with the callsign "Crow".

The _real_ Galm Squadron was a mercenary duo, generally under PMC employ, consisting of two men – Larry Foulke, also known as the 'Solo Wing Pixy', and the enigmatic pilot called Cipher, the 'Demon Lord of the Round Table' from an engagement over a prominent air defense zone in the North Britannian territory of Canada. Foulke betrayed his comrade during an air battle against Britannian forces in Western Russia, and was later seen piloting the experimental ADFX-02 Morgan superfighter.

And with this final engagement, all names involved in this story fade away into the annals of history…

**December 24****th****, 2017 ATB  
>1100 hours<br>Babel Tower, Tokyo Settlement**

After non-stop fighting for twenty-four hours, the BPG had finally reached the entertainment district, and secured Babel Tower, the second tallest structure in Tokyo behind the Government Bureau, as their headquarters.

Several levels had been cordoned off to house artillery pieces, which were moved via the large network of service elevators in the center of the structure; from their current elevation, the guns were able to bombard RBA Tokyo with complete impunity.

Rai had been tasked with the security of the building, so his troops had been summarily removed from the rest of the engagement. He was currently roaming the building between the many lounges, completely _bored_ out of his mind, and cursing Lelouch with every expletive that he could think of – after twenty minutes, he was still going strong. Wilhelm and Schulz occasionally contributed German phrases whenever the teen slowed down.

A burly German messenger dashed into the room. "Colonel Uzuki!" he shouted, then actually blushed lightly as he processed a few of the phrases that the boy was spouting. "Um… Is this a bad time?"

Rai paused and glanced at the man, then scratched his head sheepishly. "Nah, go ahead."

"Commander Lamperouge would like to meet with you – he's currently holed up at Ashford Academy, three districts away."

"Ashford?" Rai immediately perked up, a small grin developing on his features.

"Yes sir; and he requested that you bring Lieutenant Kozuki as well. Would you like an escort?"

"No, I know the way," he waved the man off, "Just get me a bike and I can get there myself."

"Yes sir, right away sir."

Kallen entered the lounge shortly after. "What's up?" she asked confusedly.

Rai danced around the room lightly, and came to rest behind her, clapping his hands on her shoulders. "You and I are taking a little trip down memory lane," he answered vaguely. He looked at his two staff officers, "You guys wanna come?"

The men glanced at each other and then shrugged. "What the hell," Schulz replied.

**1130 hours  
>Ashford Academy<strong>

Kallen jumped off the bike immediately when they rolled up the main drive. "I am _never_ riding with you in Tokyo… EVER," she announced shakily.

"Aw come on, it wasn't that bad!" he protested; he had to rescind that when Schulz and Wilhelm pulled up on another bike, shaking terribly from having to keep up with the white-haired colonel's various stunts.

"You nearly made two grown German soldiers die of panic attacks!" the redhead pointed, "That is not normal!"

Wilhelm leaned over and whispered to Schulz, "And I thought _Captain Sugiyama_ was a bad driver…" Schulz nodded vigorously in agreement.

"Oh, man up you two!" Rai pouted childishly, turning on his heel to look at the school. His visage softened nostalgically. "Ah, Ashford…"

Kallen had served briefly on the Student Council before she quit school to join her brother's resistance group full time; she had summarized that Milly Ashford was probably the craziest woman she had ever met.

"Well, come on!" Rai grabbed her arm and dragged her along, the two bemused Germans following at a distance.

The school was almost completely empty; there were a few lingering students and staff cleaning out classrooms, offices and dorms, but operations in the academy were indefinitely suspended.

A small detachment of Lelouch's security forces were busy fortifying the outside of the clubhouse, offering salutes to Rai as he passed.

"Is Lelouch setting up here?" Kallen asked quietly as they passed the engineers.

"Looks that way," Rai replied nonchalantly. "It's kind of out of the way, but he knows the place better than me, even." The pair entered the grand hall/ballroom and ascended the stairs, heading over to the Student Council Chambers in the west wing. "There has to be _some_ reasoning behind it."

The four entered the room and found Lelouch fiddling with a radio set on the conference table. Sand bags already lined the edges of the room, and the windows were being replaced with reinforced glass.

"Ah, perfect timing!" the raven-haired teen greeted them, "Just finishing the fortifications before we move the garrison into the dorms."

"Why exactly are you setting up here again?" Rai asked the question on everyone's minds.

"Oh, this is one of the only major facilities of its kind that is actually built upon solid rock as opposed to one of the Tokyo plates," Lelouch answered smoothly. "And, y'know, the obvious sentimental value."

"_Oooooh_," was the general consensus.

"What, you honestly thought that I was acting on emotion alone?" the teen's voice gained a noticeable coldness, "You don't get to be the commander of the world's largest private military company by being a sentimental fool." As quickly as it came, the chill melted back into a lighthearted smile. "But, that's just the job. Come on, everyone's waiting!"

He moved into the adjacent sitting room, and Kallen and Rai were surprised to find everyone from the old council present – including Nina, which came as a _big_ shock.

"W-what the hell are you guys doing here?!" Kallen demanded, "Can't you tell that this place is a warzone?"

"Well, _duh_," Milly drawled, "But we still have to see the last of our number before we these three go back to the homeland!" she gestured to Rivalz, Shirley and Nina, the first two of whom were taken aback.

"Wha- you mean you're not coming back, Milly?" Shirley asked incredulously.

"Nope! I need to support my future husband, now don't I?" the buxom blonde gave a brilliant smile and wrapped her arms around Lelouch, who looked down at her in shock.

"Y-you mean you got Euphie to say yes?!" he stuttered happily.

"Yep! And we sure got to know each other _very _well…" she whispered suggestively; Lelouch turned bright red along with everyone else in earshot.

"I think Christmas just came early…" the commander muttered.

"You're telling me," Rai agreed, "_Two_ wives… 'Course it barely scratches the Emperor's one hundred and eight."

"A lot of wives don't do a dead man any good."

"Point." Rivalz, Shirley and Nina were notably uncomfortable at the talk of killing the Britannian Emperor, but the others were completely open about their sentiments.

"Well?" Milly turned to the student trio, "Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to say something?"

"What about?" Rivalz questioned honestly, "You want us to just say 'Good luck' to three people who want to totally destroy the Britannian way of life?!"

"No," she replied chidingly, "I want you to say good luck to your friends and classmates who are about to go out into the field of battle, and might not come back." Milly herself had a worried look as she said that.

The three bowed their heads with guilty looks, while on the opposite end of the room, their three former classmates stood decked out in full military uniforms, milling about and slightly impatient and hurt.

After nearly a minute of silence, Kallen finally threw her arms into the air. "Fine, be that way; it's not look you're going to be any help to us, anyway," she shouted, though a treacherous tear slipped from her eye as she spoke. Rai placed an arm around her shoulder and ushered her out, tossing a glare over his shoulder; before the door shut, even Schulz and Wilhelm were sneering in disgust.

Lelouch was stoic, though his stone cold stare betrayed his feelings. "Well then, I suppose if that's how you're going to be." He pulled his radio from belt, "Security to the Council Chambers; we need an escort for a few stray civvies."

"… _Roger commander, one minute." _He clipped the radio to his gear, and folded his arms across his chest, tapping a steel-toed combat boot impatiently.

Milly was visibly saddened by this parting, but the students still refused to speak, even as the two uniformed security officers entered and ushered them out of the room. Lelouch shook his head sadly, and picked up his rifle from the corner of the room.

"I need to go out and survey the line," he said tonelessly, stepping out before Milly could respond. The blonde let a stray tear roll down her cheek, and she headed out and down into the basement, which had been converted into a safety bunker for the staff and civilians that had been left behind; Rivalz, Shirley and Nina would no doubt be the last civilians out of Japan.

**1400 hours  
>Government Bureau<strong>

The Government Complex was now less of a legislative headquarters, and more of the military stronghold that it was originally designed to be. Every ledge on the building was occupied by a sniper or machine gunner, if not a recoilless rifle or anti-aircraft cannon; every gun in the building's arsenal was out and in use.

At the same time, emergency escape measures had been put into effect; several stretches of sunken drainage ditches and artificial canals had been flooded and overflowed, allowing naval vessels such as troopships and carriers to come and dock directly against the building. All civilian personnel had been evacuated and transferred to transport ships residing in Tokyo Bay, which had been instructed to make for the Britannian mainland at the first sign of trouble.

Tonight was the night; Merry _fucking_ Christmas, Tokyo…

Snow fell on the Settlement, which had been effectively divided in half. The business and entertainment districts on the west side were occupied by the BPG; the industrial park in the south and the massive solar farms and transit hubs in the north were under the control of the Self-Defense Forces; and the government and military sectors in the east were obviously under Britannian jurisdiction.

BPG and GSDF tanks rolled up the main avenue of the western city, greeted by the cheers of the Japanese and few Britannians that remained behind. Soldiers of each factions marched in separate formations beside each other, occasionally shooting distasteful glances at their counterparts. Both groups had their certain signature features about them.

The Black Panzer Group mercenaries were decked out in the standard black and grey Mark One camouflage Battle Dress Uniforms with steel-toed combat boots, conforming-grip gloves, wrist comms, and black armored vests and web gear. Most wore camouflage caps of the same scheme, but some of the officers wore solid black berets with attaché headsets, and the stylized vulture of the PMC on the front. Lelouch was in essentially the same uniform with the beret, and his sleeves were rolled up to his upper arms. He stood atop a black Russian Federation T-95 MBT; the tank design itself was said to have been cancelled in early 2010 due to a cutoff of military funding, but the BPG purchased several units in 2015. The 125mm smoothbore gun made it a formidable weapons platform, and combined with the Tank Urban Survival Kit equipment onboard, the T-95 was a force to be reckoned with.

On the opposite side of the road marched the infantry of the Japan Ground Self-Defense Force, looking much more battle-ready than their counterparts. Every man was outfitted in blue and grey Mark One urban camouflage BDUs and combat boots, as well as heavy body armor and web gear; everyone wore steel helmets, and several officers wore balaclavas to disguise their features. Takao, despite having been declared indefinitely blind in his left eye, was commanding the SDF offensive; he wore only light armor and a cap, and his sleeves were also rolled up. He still wore an eye patch, though the troops were much less keen on taunting him about it with the "Triple Stars and Double Bars" of Colonel decorating his shoulders. He rode atop a prototype Type-11A MBT, an evolution of the Type-10, brought about by cooperation between the exiled engineers of Mitsubishi Heavy Industries and several Russian arms companies. It bore similar kit to the T-95, with the exception of a 128mm main gun.

Basically, the two armies were in the middle of a giant, silent, military pissing contest.

Lelouch shot a confident and devious smirk at his glaring and scowling Japanese counterpart as the freeway split, and the two factions divided to hit the Britannian lines from their respective chosen angles.

Downtown Tokyo was to be the first battleground. The north shopping district was taken up by BPG forces, while the SDF attacked from the south recreation areas.

An invisible line marked the division between the territories, and ran straight through the center of the Settlement; as they reached it, Lelouch clicked his radio three times.

"_**Company, HALT!"**_

He grinned with no small amount of pride as the clacking _thunk_ of the final step came in perfect unison; it grew into a smile as the Japanese troops, having rarely officially practiced drill and ceremonies in over seven years, ended sloppily and out of sync.

"It's the little things that make a general happy," he sighed blissfully, pulling out a portable video commlink; the feed automatically connected to Cornelia's office. "So, Cornelia li Britannia…"

"_So, Lelouch Walther Lamperouge,"_ the violet-haired Witch of Britannia replied tonelessly.

"I don't suppose 'you have two minutes to surrender, or be destroyed' is going to work here, eh?"

"_Afraid not."_

"Well then, it wasn't entirely pleasant knowing you."

From the city behind him rose at least a dozen Mil Mi-35 Hind heavy gunships, armed to the teeth and carrying eight soldiers apiece. A dozen TOW missiles lanced out at the Government Building and into the streets below it, a series of explosions blooming all across the city as the armies advanced and clashed in earnest.

Lelouch dove from the T-95 as the turret rotated, and a Javelin missile struck the front of the tank; the Fifth-Generation Chobham Armor absorbed and deflected most of the shock, and the MBT pressed on, blowing out a part of a building and sending Britannian troops into a panic, a few of them being blown away by the blast.

The BPG commander ran forward with the charging wave of foot soldiers, vaulting through an open-air café and then rolling down behind an overturned table as a machine gun emplacement in the middle of the road opened up on the charge. Despite the apparently ridiculous number of infantry present, nearly all of them managed to find complete cover; anyone who didn't at least had partial cover, and was drawing the fire of the guns while the others ducked out to suppress them.

Lelouch popped up and fired a quick volley from his G-36A2, nailing the loader in the face; the gunner went down mere moments later, courtesy of a sniper resting over the crest of the freeway.

One of Rai's adrenaline junkies took this opportunity to use the sandbags as an impromptu ramp, launching several feet into the air on a dirt bike whilst simultaneous executing a beautiful No-Hander. With his hands free, the man fired several bursts from an MP5K SMG, and then upon landing, zoomed off deeper into the city to raise more hell.

"… I love those guys to death, but I honestly believe that they're suicidal," Lelouch muttered worriedly. He brushed the thought aside and caught onto the side of a speeding technical. He spotted the brand name on the side, and rapped his fist on the back window; the man in the back seat slid the window open.

"Problem, boss?"

"Yeah; Chevy, really? I told you – TOYOTA, FORD, NISSAN – NO CHEVY!"

"We were out of trucks in the motor pool, boss!" the driver shouted back, swinging hard and swearing loudly as an artillery shell impacted in the middle of the street. "Now with all due respect, shut up and take the gun!"

Lelouch grumbled something about insubordination and grabbed the grips of the swinging .50 cal, yanking back the action and ripping into the Britannians scattered about the streets; he flashed back to Niigata and smiled nostalgically, completely out of place as he cut down a squad of enemy infantry.

"HEADS UP, BOSS!" the driver cried out in a panic; Lelouch barely had time to grip the MG mount for dear life before a rocket struck the front of the truck, sending it tumbling forward, end over end; on the first rotation, the teen was thrown violently to the asphalt, where he rolled a few times before coming to rest as he hit a concrete wall.

"Son of a _bitch_," he hissed, feeling a minor fracture somewhere in his right arm, which he had used to brace against the impact. "This is _exactly_ why I said no Chevy – piece of shit can barely take a hit…"

He crawled to his feet, and found himself just slightly forward of the friendly front line; he strapped the rifle to his pack and swapped for an MP5, and affixed an external suppressor. He clicked his radio onto the GSDF's channel briefly.

"Hey Takao, bet I can get to Cornelia before you!" he challenged tauntingly, shutting the device off without waiting for a response; he then dashed down an alleyway, adroitly vaulting over a clump of trashcans.

**1430 hours  
>GSDF Frontline<strong>

Takao ground his teeth at the insolent teen's bold challenge.

"Kenji, gimme a gun!"

"Are you sure, boss?" the armorer, Kenji, asked skeptically. "I mean, you're supposed to be on reserve…"

"One eye is good enough for me!" Takao snapped back, "Now just give me a goddamned gun!" Kenji shook his head doubtfully, but reached down into the APC and tossed him a Type 89 and a P226. The colonel immediately holstered the pistol and slung the strap of the rifle across his shoulders, jumping down from his perch and following the next charging wave of troops. He fell in behind a heavy assault platoon, and pressed on for over half of mile before finally encountering resistance.

"Hey, those BPG bastards are breaking the boundaries!" one of the GSDF soldiers whined as a squad of Panzer Group soldiers ran across the rooftops above them. "And how the hell do they even get up there?!"

He was answered as another squad came running around the corner firing, and then quickly running to a building across the street; the ten men proceeded to muscle themselves up, ledge by ledge, and once up top, follow after their comrades.

"… Wow," Takao said simply, "That is _so_ much more efficient."

"I know, right?!" the man who first pointed it out shouted back. "Why can't we do that?!"

"I'll look into that later," the colonel replied airily, "For now, let's fight how we fight best. **FORWARD!**"

The Japanese troops let out a battle cry and resumed the charge, pushing strongly through the southern city. Takao commandeered a Komatsu and followed the frontline as they broke through a Britannian barricade around a park.

**1530 hours  
>RBA Tokyo<strong>

Brigadier General Gilbert Guilford glanced down at the tactical display table and grimaced. The BPG had already broken through the second Britannian ring of defense, and the SDF wasn't too far behind. Enemy paratroopers and gunships had battered the Government Bureau's defenses, and fighting was literally _everywhere_.

He and his staff were currently holed up in an unused hangar complex off of the main drag, and they were in the midst of coordinating the defensive efforts on the base.

What they did _not_ expect, was to be quickly surrounded as the enemy raiders traced their command frequency.

"_**General Guilford!"**_ an amplified voice boomed, echoing throughout the darkened facility, _**"We of the Japan Ground Self-Defense Force have you surrounded! If you do not lay down your arms and surrender, we are authorized to use lethal force to ensure cooperation!" **_

"The Britannian Army recognizes no national military by that moniker!" Guilford shouted back, "_You_ have one minute to lay down _your_ arms, and you will be allowed a fair trial!"

"… _**Well this clearly isn't going to work,"**_ the voice snorted.

The front doors and both side walls were blown out, and Heavy Assault Burai rolled into the facility, their rifles and anti-personnel machine guns inactive, but sweeping the room. Two full companies of infantry filed in behind them.

Guilford felt around the underside of the table for his sidearm, but jerked in surprise as it was dangled in front of his face.

"Looking for this?" his second taunted, tossing the pistol to one of the Japanese soldiers before backing away into their ranks.

"Well, I officially hate my job," Guilford sighed as his hands were flex-cuffed, and he was shoved roughly into the back of an APC with his staff. "At the very least, I can do _this_." As the vehicle rolled out of the hangar, the general rolled up his sleeve to expose his wrist watch, a fairly cheap-looking Timex; he pressed the 'Indiglo' button, and the hangar behind them went up in a massive explosion. "Consider that my resignation."

**1600 hours  
>Government Bureau<strong>

"Guilford's been captured," Darlton announced nonchalantly as he entered the office, "And his brigade has surrendered. The base has fallen."

Cornelia saw red.

"Before you go out and do something that _all_ of us are going to regret, he's being shipped out from one of the northern prefectures back to Britannia; he's fine." Andreas flopped back uncharacteristically into one of the desk chairs and stared at the radio on the Vicerene's desk as reports flowed in.

"… Well at least he's alright," Cornelia sighed after a moment's hesitation. Darlton raised a brow.

"What? Out of the seven hundred-odd men that he had with him, you only care about one man?" The Commander-in-Chief looked down guiltily. "Some lessons are best learned in war, Cornelia li Britannia," the grizzled old general chided lightly as he stood and moved to the balcony doors, "And the lesson I will give you here today is this: single-mindedness is a double-edged sword. You understand the concept of tunnel vision, correct? You see nothing but the end of the road, and thereby miss the obstacles or hostiles waiting on the sidelines. In terms of commanding an army, I believe that this variant of the lesson is one that Guilford was able to grasp quite well; he interacted with his troops, and got to know them on a personal level, outside of their occupations on the field of battle."

"… So you're saying that what made him such an excellent commander was his knowledge of his individual soldiers and their personalities?" the violet-haired princess summarized, then demanded, "How the hell is that supposed to help?!"

"Well, on top of making him a popular and beloved commander, it gave him in-depth knowledge of their true strengths and weaknesses," Darlton replied. "Tell me, in a scenario where you required a skilled sapper to mine an enemy transport route, who would you use – a man of higher rank, but lesser experience and skill, or one of lower rank who has done the job longer, and knew how to do it best?"

"Well if I knew about the second one, I would obviously use him."

"Ah, but that would require you to know him on a fairly personal level, or have done research on him for some odd reason. See what I'm getting at here?"

Cornelia 'hm'ed and sat back in her chair. "Yes, I see what you're referring to. And of course, it comes far too late."

Darlton shrugged. "The only time that a lesson comes too late is if you die before you learn it. Death is the only truly mitigating factor." The general cautiously opened one of the balcony doors, only to have to slam it shut a moment later; a .338 Lapua sniper bullet crashed through the glass a second after, and he shut the curtains quickly as five more rounds followed the first. "Tenacious bastards, those BPG snipers…"

Cornelia was in cover behind her desk, and nodded quickly in agreement; another round crashed through the window directly above her head. "Oh come on, that was totally a pot shot!"

"Actually no, your secretary just walked straight into the line of sight with that window," Andreas informed, gesturing to the poor cowering young woman outside of the office door.

"Why is she still here?"

"I think it was something about preparing surrender papers…"

"… I ordered no such thing."

"No, I distinctly remember-"

"_**I ordered no such thing, Darlton!**_"

"Yes, ma'am…"

**1700 hours  
>East Business District<strong>

Lelouch somehow found himself trapped in a twentieth-floor conference room, ducked behind the overturned table and popping up occasionally to take pot shots at the Britannian squad that was lined up in the doorway.

The teenage mercenary took a frag on his web gear and snapped it off by the clip, lobbing the grenade into the hall; the soldiers outside tried to run for cover, but over half were caught in the blast.

He vaulted over the table and took up position in the doorway, firing on the stragglers in the hall opposite before peeking out and finishing the rest.

Lelouch popped into the next room over, and found what he had apparently come into the building for – a Britannian communications post, with a satellite uplink and radar antenna jutting out of the one broken window. He dashed over to the screen, which was blinking oddly; a countdown timer with barely thirty seconds shone in red. After a quick once-over of the rest of the screen, he swore colorfully and ran out of the room.

175mm artillery strike incoming – objective: demolition.

"_**SHIT!**_" What the hell was with these people blowing up their own buildings? He clicked his earpiece to the air cavalry's frequency, "I need a chopper at the Stadtfeld Corporate Office Building, North Tower!"

"_Roger, Commander; ETA is ten seconds."_ Sure enough, a passing Hind immediately spotted him; unfortunately, thirty seconds had passed unfortunately quickly.

The rear cargo hatch on the side opened up, and a merc peeked his head out and gave the 'come on!' motion.

Lelouch glanced around the room desperately for some form of bridging, but as the first shell rocked the building, he cussed under his breath and stepped back for a running start. The second shell hit the structure while he was in mid-run, nearly making him lose his footing, but he managed to recover and make the leap of faith.

The hang time seemed to last forever; the door of the chopper lay before him, and the merc was now perched on the small ramp, his arm outstretched.

The third shell came a bit close for comfort.

A 175mm high-explosive artillery shell impacted against the side of the office building, barely thirty feet away from the hovering chopper. The gunship shook violently, and the tail rotor brushed an exposed steel girder, sending the entire craft spinning away in a barely-controlled rotation. Lelouch's eyes widened in panic as the first stages of this disaster occurred mere feet from him, and the mercenary in front of him quickly lunged forward and caught his forearm, simultaneously falling onto his stomach and, in an unbelievable display of core strength, formed his body into an L, catching and partially hooking himself into the craft around the fold in his midsection.

Both men's expressions twisted into pain as the spiral caused Lelouch to jerk wildly in the wind, and the young man felt something in the offending arm stretch a little too much for any level of comfort – not to mention the fact that he was bashed into the underside of the chopper barely a moment later.

The men inside of the chopper were clinging alternately to handholds and their dangling comrades, trying desperately to reel them inside. _"Straighten this damn thing out!"_ one called up to the cockpit.

"_We're trying, dammit! But it's kicking my ass here!" _the pilot called back, desperately wrestling with the controls. They were now losing altitude quickly, and Lelouch managed to use the up-draft to pull himself into the falling copter and slam the hatch shut. The men fell back inside and collapsed in their respective positions, sighing in relief and wiping sweat from their brows.

That is, until they remembered that they were in a falling helicopter. Then there was naturally _some_ panic.

"_PARACHUTES! WHERE THE HELL ARE THE PARACHUTES?!"_

"Oh shut up already," Lelouch replied, "Just land the damned thing already!"

"… _Oh. Right then."_ What? The ammo was already gone.

The spiral managed to level out (relatively speaking), and the falling, swerving gunship flew towards the front side of the Government Complex, aiming to land somewhere beneath the freeway.

A snow bank waited below the freeway, and the pilot managed to steer them towards it. Everyone managed to get to a seat and strap into crash webbing, but mere seconds later, they were nearly thrown into each other as the underbelly struck the snow, and ground into the steel and cement beneath.

The chopper skidded for a hundred yards before coming to a stop against a concrete piling, and the crew and passengers piled out of the overturned craft.

"Nice landing, gentlemen," Lelouch groaned to the pilot, who was crawling out of the smashed bulb canopy. "Think you can hold out long enough for the front line to catch up?"

"You mean you're ditching us?" the tech officer called back incredulously.

"Your pilot and weapons officer there are trained soldiers, you'll survive!" the teen waved over his shoulder as he and the eight other infantrymen from the chopper collected their gear and jogged off into the slums.

**1800 hours  
>City Center – Old Tokyo Tower<strong>

Rai's Command APC rolled up to the tower facilties, and he jumped up into the gunner's seat to watch the soldiers up top assembling mortars and 105mm artillery pieces. Within a few minutes, several volleys of fire started up towards the Government Bureau once more, and the front line continued their forward motion; Britannian resistance in this area was minimal.

The Japanese teen ducked back in as the BTR took up its place in the middle of the assault convoy, and he sighed melancholically.

"I should be out there…" As though answering his call, there was an explosion as the vehicle in front of them went up in flames, and a company of Britannians popped up from the shops around the intersection, large-caliber ARs, LMGs, and a few scattered rocket and grenade launchers. Two of the rocketeers kneeled inside of a restaurant near the front window; one smashed out the window, and the other fired an 84mm M136 (also designated AT4) disposable rocket launcher at the tank behind Rai's carrier, blowing out one of the treads. The T-90's turret rotated and blew out the front of the restaurant, but the offenders had already fallen back to a different position.

"Finally!" Rai crowed, snatching up his trusty AK-47 and diving out of the rear hatch as it dropped; the crew quickly followed, and within seconds of escape, the APC was obliterated by two separate rockets. "FIND COVER, DAMMIT!"

As the three vehicles burned in the middle of the intersection, effectively blocking the road from all sides, troops started to pour in from the fighting factions. Apparently, the head of the convoy had also been attacked in another intersection as they tried to flee; the forward group was trapped between the two ambush points, fighting for their lives. The men from the rear intersection were slowly being pushed into the middle as well, while said intersection was being cordoned off and jealously defended by Britannian heavy soldiers.

Rai ran into a corner clothing storing, his head sweeping left and right in search of a stairwell; three of his men came in behind to back him up, and they spotted the stairs in the back.

A Britannian fireteam poured down said steps as they approached, firing M249 LMGs and ripping into the scattered racks of clothing as the mercs dove for cover. One of the mercs, a small Korean man, swapped out his SMG for an XM8 with an under-barrel grenade launcher. He popped out from around the corner of the room, and let off a 40mm airburst grenade at the stairs; the Britannian troops couldn't even run as the blast shredded them.

The mercenary team continued up to the next floor, men's wear; the access hatch to the unused third floor and the roof was in the office on the other end of the building. Here, another ten or so of the ambush troops lay in wait, their rifles trained on the stairway; the moment Rai's head popped up, he pulled it back in time to evade the thirty-some odd bullets that came his way.

"Gimme a flash and a frag!" he hissed back, at which he was thrown an M84 Flashbang and an M67 Frag. "Flash out!" he pulled the pin and tossed it around the corner in a solid pitch, where it landed in the middle of the open room; the moment that it went off, he threw the frag to the same spot, waiting three more seconds before pushing in as six of the soldiers were downed. The rest were quickly finished off with rifle fire, and the group located the office access hatch. "And set up some Claymores by the door," he called back down.

The third floor was stocked with anti-tank weapons and sniper rifles, along with two or three scattered machine guns and ammunition. Rai grabbed two of the M136 rocket launchers and slung them across his back, as well as grabbed a box of 7.62 rounds. His comrades grabbed up several more rockets, as well as two of the sniper rifles and an MG.

Moving quickly to the rooftop, the men saw that the situation had quickly escalated.

The Britannian Army was mounting a counterattack all across the city; they had been the first ones to be hit, and the offensive was quickly losing steam in the fading light. A pair of Abrams tanks approached from either side of the intersection, cutting into the BPG forces trapped there.

"Aim for the turret! Take those guys out!" Rai ordered, shouldering one of the launchers. Before he fired, one of his snipers shot the tank's commander/machine gunner; then, the rocket flew at the top of the tank, and the entire turret was completely blown out. The tank didn't stop moving, but it wouldn't be doing any damage any time soon.

He turned to the second tank, and saw that it had already been hit; unfortunately, the additional explosive-reactive armor panels installed with the Abrams' Urban Survival Kit had stopped the shot. The backlash had scarred part of the upper armor, but the vehicle was otherwise unaffected. The M1 rolled straight up to the line of wreckage, and began pushing Rai's BTR out of the way. The burned-out skeleton was brushed off and crushed against the side of the destroyed restaurant front, and the enemy tank then backed into the space it had previously occupied, and started raising hell among the rest of the column.

"I _hate_ ERA panels…" one of the other men groaned loudly, firing a sniper round into one of said panels; the bullet bounced pathetically off of the casing. Rai clicked his radio dial over to the air cavalry frequency, and clicked his earpiece.

"Tango-Delta, Tango-Delta, this is Romeo-Uniform; requesting anti-tank support at the junction of Charlie-Bravo and Sierra-Seven. Do you copy, over?"

The line buzzed with static for a few seconds before the reply. _"… Copy, Romeo-Uniform, Tango-Delta is en route – ETA is ninety seconds."_

"Heads up boys, the fireworks are rolling in!" Rai called out over the booming cannon fire. The small AT party turned and moved back just as a low _thump_ came from downstairs – someone had tripped the Claymore in the office, and the colonel prayed that it wasn't one of theirs.

Fortunately (or not), it wasn't. A team of Britannian Delta operators was huddled around the office door, momentarily unawares of the BPG foursome's presence – they were assuming that the trap had been one of theirs.

"Give me another one of those AT4s," he whispered back; someone tossed him a launcher, and he went prone and crawled around so that he was hiding at the top of the ladder, looking down and partially through the office doorway. The lead Delta man then looked up… Only to fall flat on his ass as he stared down the barrel of an anti-tank weapon.

"_Sayonara_, scumbags," Rai muttered, depressing the trigger-button.

The 84mm Tandem-HEAT projectile rocketed across the short distance, impacting outside of the room and blowing out a part of the floor; the Delta team was either eviscerated or thrown to the ground floor by the blast. The latter was casually picked off by the BPG squad that was investigating the Claymore blast.

"_Colonel Uzuki, are you alright up there?"_ his earpiece buzzed.

"Roger, we're on the roof of the corner clothing store; and you might want to get to the back wall down there, we're going to be getting some rain in about thirty seconds."

"_Affirmative, Colonel. Is it safe to approach your position right now?"_ Rai glanced down at the hole in the floor.

"If you can jump a fifteen-foot gap, then feel free to try, sergeant."

"… _On second thought, I think we'll just hang out in the stairwell."_ A few moments later, the sergeant's decision proved to be the correct one.

The Mi-35 gunship, callsign "Tango-Delta," swept down over the street and brought its rocket launchers to bear; a volley of four S-8 80mm rockets flew free, slamming into the tank and the area around it. The Abrams itself was completely mangled by the first two, while the latter pair was simply overkill. The front side of the clothing store in which Rai and his comrades were hiding was obliterated, and of course, so was the dead-center of the street which they needed to cross.

"… Well that was sort of a win-loss, there," Rai sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He stood on the edge of the remainder of the third floor and waved to the rest of the convoy, who were tentatively approaching the intersection and examining the wreckage. "YO! Get a recovery team over here ASAP! We need to get this place cleared out and get it in gear, people! We're falling behind the GSDF!"

_That_ about did it. Within moments, a full company was on the scene, along with an Armored Recovery Vehicle (ARV), this one a variant of the Type 10 tank. The heavy utility tank set to work pushing the bulk of the wreckage out of the road, while the heavier-set foot soldiers started rummaging through the surrounding rubble and tossing larger pieces into the craters.

For the apparent futility of the latter action, it actually proved relatively effective after about fifteen minutes. Then, once the level in the hole was barely a few inches below the lip, several metal pallets and grates were brought in and placed over the top. Within twenty minutes of the end of the engagement, the battered convoy was steaming straight over the site like nothing ever happened.

**2000 hours  
>Government Complex <strong>

Night had already mostly set in, but the flashes of gunfire and explosives still shone all throughout eastern Tokyo. Most of the active Yokosuka Port had been seized by SBU-lead Self-Defense Force units, but a small stretch remained intentionally untouched for the remaining evacuation ships.

Snow continued to fall on the burned-out wrecks and ruins across the Settlement, and Darlton shook his head sadly as he looked down on it all from the balcony, nursing a glass of scotch. The snipers had given up around 1900, when the snowfall started picking up, and reduced visibility to a few hundred feet.

Most of the general staff sat in the area behind him. They were currently holed up in the Vicerene's private quarters, huddled around the one authentic fireplace in the entire goddamned building after BPG agents had cut the power supply. The liquor cabinet had been raided and cleaned out, but sobriety still prevailed in their current situation.

This was the final act; once the outer perimeter fell, and either the BPG or the SDF set foot in the ground floor lobby, they would surrender. The building's internal defenses were regrettably mediocre in this kind of crisis, anyways – "That's what you get for shooting down my request for machine guns on the security cameras," the Sector Security Chief had griped as Cornelia had stormed out half an hour prior.

The fifteen assembled men (and three women) barely flinched as another artillery strike rocked the entire facility. Try as they might, the enemy had been incapable of doing anything more than aesthetic damage to the complex; it would take nothing short of several nuclear warheads or over a dozen bunker buster bombs to even come close to bringing it down.

"Take another swig, ladies and gents," the aging general declared monotonously. The occupants all took long drinks.

"This has to be the shittiest drinking game I've ever played," Major General Alex Morrison grunted.

"Here, here," OSI Commander Miles Clark swung his glass in agreement, a pair of wraparound ballistic sunglasses resting on the crown of his head.

"Have a little patience, you old spooks," Lieutenant Colonel Jennifer Richards chided, draining a mug and tossing it over her shoulder carelessly. "We just need to ride it out and give the prize to the first guy to walk in the door – then we can go home and oust a power-hungry old Emperor."

"Think they might actually beat us to that, too!" Foreign Affairs Chief Michael Deacon interjected exasperatedly, pulling a sheaf of papers from his briefcase, "Take a look at _that_."

Pinned to the top was an eight-by-ten glossy color aerial photo; the location was a military port on the northeast coast of Australia, and the time stamp was two days ago. The entire (extensive) harbor, which looked to be built for nearly a hundred ships, was full to the bursting; barely a dozen of the ships present bore Australian Navy markings.

"Holy hell…" Miles breathed in awe, sifting through the other papers detailing the ships' various classifications and designations, "They've got most of Asia and East Africa in there! China, Siberian Russia, India, Vietnam… There are even a few legit Somali naval vessels in here! Not to mention a lot of territories that make up Area Eighteen… And South Africa, too! I thought they were one of our legal principalities?"

"Seceded last week," Michael offered.

"Damn… Oh, and get a load of this next one." Miles flipped to the next photo, which was a smaller harbor to the south of the first. "Every ship you see here is on the roster of the Germanic State Navy or the Black Panzer Group." There were almost fifty ships there, too; nearly half were troopships, while the rest were cruisers or destroyers, with two or three aircraft carriers mixed in. "Bastards are just _waiting_ for this to end."

"Actually, the last report before this whole shit storm here started this afternoon said that the fleet had mobilized; a third was on course for South Britannia, another third for Middle Britannia, and the last bunch for the west coast of North Britannia; there was also a few communications intercepted by OSI that the Russians were planning on trying to enlist a few Japanese Maritime Self-Defense Force vessels to help them invade the Duchy of Alaska, to shut down the North Slope oil reserves."

"Bloody hell," Andreas sighed, slamming back the rest of his glass and pitching it out the window; the snow had lifted a little bit, so apparently the snipers were just screwing around as three shots shattered the glass in midair.

The assembly's brows rose in surprise, and on a spur-of-the-moment urge, Michael stood from his seat and retrieved an apple that was sitting on the coffee table; he pitched it smoothly out the window, and exactly a second later, it exploded from what was presumably a .50 caliber round.

"I can honestly say that I have _never_ seen a sniper that good," the FA officer shook his head in amazement. "Even on an angle, the nearest building from the front is what – twenty-five hundred yards away? That's some crazy shit right there."

"You think _that's_ crazy? I went outside for a smoke an hour ago, and one of the bastards shot my light out of my hand, and the stick straight outta my mouth," Miles grumbled, "And somehow, I could tell that one was German, and the other was Japanese. They're getting their kicks from the World War Two all in at once." The room shared a chuckle at that thought. "I'm serious! And then before I ducked inside, _I swear to god_, I saw them both waving the bright red meatball and the swastika at me!"

"Sure you did," Michael rolled his eyes. "And _I'm_ thinking that said smoke you had there wasn't exactly the everyday advertised nicotine."

"Alright you two, save it for the old vets' home," Darlton cut in before the pair could come to blows, "We still need to keep stock on the situation outside. Nolan!"

The Sergeant Major in front of a set of Sakuradite-operated computer monitors spun in his chair and wordlessly tossed a paper clipped manila envelope to his superior, who nodded his thanks as he opened it up. After scanning over the contents for a minute, Darlton nodded to himself and tossed it down onto the table. "BPG's gonna win."

"How can you tell?" Jennifer asked skeptically.

"Because General Lamperouge over there is already downstairs, coming up to Cornelia's command center in the service elevators."

**2010 hours  
>Gov't Bureau Comms Center<strong>

"Y'know, when I stepped into that elevator and pressed the 'up' button, I honestly didn't have a single thought in my mind about being able to hold the entire room hostage with just the ol' Glock here," Lelouch gave the assembled tech staff an infuriating smirk. Cornelia gritted her teeth and moved her hand slightly towards the mostly-decorated, yet still functional cavalry pistol to the right of her seat; a 9mm Parabellum round thudded into the wall between her hand and the weapon. He waved a finger at her and tutted, as though chastising a small child. "Naughty, naughty, little Corny," he taunted, his tone laden with mockery. Cornelia flinched; there was one person in particular who used that nickname as she tormented her…

Damn Nonette to hell.

"Now if you will all cooperate and remain in your seats whilst silencing all thoughts of escaping from or subduing me, then in approximately…" he glanced down at his wrist watch, "… Four hours, you will be back on a boat to Britannia to participate in the largest-scale Coup de'tat since my grandfather, Claus von Staufenburg, tried to assassinate Adolf Hitler and dissolve Nazi Germany." While the room's occupants processed his statement, Lelouch tapped his earpiece.

"… _We're wrapping it up, boss," _Rai reported breathlessly, _"But it's a running battle, literally. The last remnants are light infantry, and they're pretty agile." _

"And you said that the Japanese captured Guilford?"

"_Yes sir; they've secured Yokohama Prison, and that's where they're transferring all of their prisoners. Guilford is up for execution tomorrow for crimes against the sovereign nation of Japan."_

"Well that won't do at all," Lelouch muttered, frowning as he contemplated the situation. "We've taken over the outlying barracks facilities, right?"

"_I believe so."_

"Assemble a unit of loyal Britannians and grab some Delta uniforms; before shipping out from Japan, the Britannian Army will make one last strike to liberate prisoners of war from the Japanese military."

"_Wilko."_

**2200 hours  
>Nojimazaki Point, Chiba Prefecture<strong>

Nojimazaki Point was the very end of the peninsula of Chiba Prefecture, and marked the final divide before Tokyo Bay flowed out into the Pacific. It was at this point (more for symbolism than anything) that the Britannians made their final arrangements before setting off.

Cornelia stood on the beach, a landing craft awaiting her, along with Darlton and the rest of her staff.

Lelouch stood in front of her; Takao was 'regrettably' absent, having to suppress a POW riot in Yokohama.

"I suppose this is goodbye, eh Cornelia?" the teenager chuckled, his trusty pistol still holstered at his side; the Second Princess was sorely tempted to snatch it and shoot him with it. She was admirably restraining herself… for now. "You were a worthy adversary… But you had lost the minute you set foot on Japanese soil."

"I'm not going to say the same of you out of personal pride," Cornelia grunted back, "And you'd better take good care of Euphie, or else I'll be invading Japan again _myself_ just to kick your ass."

"Boss, we gotta _go_!" Rai called from the GAZ on the gravel road, "We've gotta be back in Sapporo before Katase and Ishitora declare martial law and kill any one of us that doesn't get their ass over the straits in time!"

"Oh, son of a bitch," Lelouch groaned. "I was hoping that this would be a lot smoother… Oh well, at least I still have Cambodia to fall back on." Without bothering to answer Cornelia's questioning look, he offered a half-assed salute and his trademark infuriating smirk before spinning on his heel and sprinting back to the car. The LAV did a burn-out in their rush to get going, and within moments, the engine noise had faded into the night.

"… It's finally over, isn't it?" Cornelia finally said softly.

"Yes, it is," Andreas replied with a small smile. "Come on, I believe that you have a long 'family meeting' to attend to once we arrive in Britannia. You're going to need to rest up for it." The princess nodded in agreement, and the party moved through the light surf to the landing craft; the boat backed up, and was soon off back to the HMS _Dauntless_, an aircraft carrier that had been transferred in from Europe to help with evacuation.

A sad thought struck Cornelia – Grimm's mother was on that boat, and she would have to deliver the details of his death to the poor woman.

_**Flashback – October 30**__**th**_

_Halloween was a hectic time for the Britannian military in Tokyo; everyone was in costumes, so nationality, and more importantly allegiance were nearly impossible to ascertain without seeing a face. _

_Captain Hans Grimm was kicking back in the open cockpit of his new F-5 Tiger interceptor, a notebook perched on his lap and a pen clenched between his teeth as he pondered his next words in his letter._

_It was fairly late, and the city was coming alive with bright lights as the sun sunk below the horizon. Every military man and woman on duty would be on high alert for an attack, especially with a large number of civilians congregated in the new Tokyo football stadium, watching an exhibition match between the local Army and Navy teams, with the Marines and Air Force scheduled shortly after. _

_Suddenly, somewhere over on the edge of the main settlement, a massive orange cloud bloomed, as an Army checkpoint and way station went up in flames. A pair of F-35 fighter-bombers darted overhead, painted black and blending in quiet effectively with the night sky._

_Sirens on base blared as mechanics and off-duty pilots stumbled out of the hangar complexes to see the source of the commotion; Grimm's notebook fell to the cockpit's floor as he immediately set about gearing everything up. A few of the quicker ground crew set about a rapid pre-flight, and by the time they were giving the thumbs-up, the young captain was already in gear and sealing his canopy. _

"_**Attention all air defense personnel! Bogies have penetrated Tokyo airspace – all available units, scramble to intercept!"**__ the tower commander's voice crackled over his headset. _

"_This is Captain Hans Grimm; I'm ready for takeoff – requesting permission to launch."_

"_**Grimm? Alright, be careful up there. Those two planes alone are way above that F-5 that you're flying – try to end it as quickly as possible."**_

"_Wilko," Grimm replied tonelessly, already in the midst of his taxi roll. He moved to the end of the runway, and started his takeoff roll. There was small grinding noise from his gear once he was in the air, but he shrugged it off as a tight piston and moved the gear back into its housing. _

_He flicked through the radio channels, trying to pick up the enemy chatter. _

"… _**So Erin, you gonna be doing anything next weekend? I picked up some leave passes for the rest base in Kamchatka," **__one of the pilots chatted casually at his wingman. _

"_**Sorry dude, I got stuck on hit-and-run duty in Ibaraki with Dmitri,"**__ the other man replied, __**"But how long are those things good for?"**_

"_**End-of-the-war contract, bud."**_

"_**Think you can hold onto them for three more weeks until I'm relieved?"**_

"_**You're gonna have to give me some sort of incentive…"**_

_Grimm was slightly enraged at their casualness as they endangered thousands of civilian lives, and armed his AIM-9 missiles as he flicked on his mic. "Attention unidentified aircraft, you are carrying out hostile operations in Britannian airspace; you have ten seconds to comply with instructions and exit this zone, or you __**will**__ be shot down." _

"… _**HA! That's a laugh. Hey Mischa, you hearing this kid?"**_

"_**I'm reading him loud and clear. You feel like turning and burning, Erin?"**_

"_**And risk getting chew out by Luch Squadron for abandoning a mission? Not a chance in hell, man."**_

"_**Well runt, you have our answers. Go off and play with the rest of your little buddies and leave the professionals to our work." **__The second man, Erin, emphasized the point by firing an AGM, which smashed into an Army Urban Response checkpoint, blowing the entire highway-side shack to hell. _

"_I said STOP, dammit!" Grimm cried out as he saw the impact, acquiring a missile lock on Mischa; he proceeded to fire off a pair of short-range missiles. _

"_**OH, you're playing with the big boys now, squirt," **__Erin growled as Mischa deployed chaff and turned outturned the missile with ease. The duo turned quickly, and after a quick series of maneuvers, were both right on Grimm's six._

'What the hell is going on here?'_ Grimm thought in panic, _'The controls are a lot more sluggish than usual…'_ Despite this, he managed to execute a Split-S, and was soon flying directly above the other two. _

"… _**You done playing yet?" **__Mischa drawled in boredom. Grimm's brows shot into his close-cropped hairline as Erin, who was alright flying at the lowest speed that was possible without stalling out, braked further and free-fell for a ways before coming back up behind them._

"_**You've got talent, kid; but you picked the wrong fight, in the wrong plane."**_

"_What do you mean, 'the wrong plane'?" Grimm snapped back in irritation. _

_Mischa snorted. __**"You mean you haven't recognized it yet? That plane you're flying has all the hallmarks of a GE-Lockheed. They barely give a damn about functionality, they're all about making the cheapest plane – which is always selected, and by the grace of God somehow passes all the trials cleanly. And you can bet your life that even though we're letting you go… You're not going to land."**_

"_Bullshit!" the young captain retorted sharply, "The Britannian military only accepts the highest quality! You're just screwing with me!"_

"_**Murphy's Laws of War, kiddo – your weapon is made by the lowest bidder," **__one could _hear_ Erin shaking his head. __**"You had such potential… But then, it's not the first time that Britannia's wasted that."**__ The two assault pilots broke off and exited the airspace, and the first thing that Grimm heard as he switched back to the secure channel was the tower barking at him in confusion. _

"_Just gimme a break, George," he said weakly, "I just… I'm not feeling it man." Without warning, an alarm blared in his ear; upon inspection, the right wing's flap had locked up. "… No," he whispered in panic, "Nononono NO!" He tested several other instruments, but discovered that almost everything was failing at once. Tears welled up in his eyes as the thrusters cut out, and he began to fall._

"…_**rimm… GRIMM!" **__the man in the tower shouted in panic as he actually was watching the plane fall, __**"PULL UP, DAMMIT! **_**PULL UP!**_**"**_

"_Hey George…"_

"… _**Yeah, Grimm?"**_

"_When you get back to the homeland… Make sure the Emperor and his personal military advisors suffer. Oh, and sue GE-Lockheed for everything they own – make sure to mention me."_

"… _**You got it, Grimm."**_

"_Thanks buddy. See ya on the other side." The plane then impacted dead-center in the motor pool, setting off a chain reaction of gasoline and glycerin explosions, the flames from which would take hours to put out. _

_Hans Grimm was posthumously promoted to Colonel, and then Knighted by Cornelia herself shortly after, and awarded the Victoria Cross for valor and ingenuity in the Pacific theater. Shortly after the liberation of Japan, and after much political posturing, BPG fighter pilots Erin Ross and Mischa Gregorovich managed to convince the JASDF to erect a memorial on the site, which would remain for decades after._

_**End Flashback**_

Cornelia wiped a tear and steeled herself as the party transferred up to the carrier deck; a woman in her late forties awaited them, her long, shining brown hair tied up in a bun, and her slate grey eyes shining pleasantly. "General Cornelia," Sidney Grimm offered a sharp salute.

"Lieutenant Colonel Grimm," the princess returned the salute, her resolve weakening with every heartbeat. "You… You are the mother of Colonel Hans Grimm, correct?"

"Oh, my baby's been promoted?!" Sidney crowed joyously, "Why haven't I heard of this?"

"I-it just went through a few days ago," Cornelia replied unsteadily, her visage turning downwards. "Miss Grimm… Sidney, I'm so sorry to have to just be telling you this now, but… Your son was killed in action two months ago. His posthumous awards only officially came through yesterday."

The world froze. Sidney's face was stuck as she tried to comprehend what was being said, slowly drifting to horror. "No…" she whispered hoarsely, "… No, it can't be true… No, it just can't!" Tears were welling up in her eyes, and Cornelia felt the same sensation. Sidney collapsed to her knees on the deck, and wailed brokenly, sobbing uncontrollably. The navy men and women around them looked over from their stations, and spotted their universally-beloved briefing officer so broken; they could already guess the news. Everyone in visual range removed their headgear and held it against their chest, bowing their heads wordlessly in respectful remembrance. The only sounds that remained were the ocean, and a heartbroken mother crying over the loss of her second child.

Cornelia's next actions shocked all in attendance: she kneeled in front of Sidney, and wrapped her arms around the old woman in a comforting hug.

This was the final straw. Charles zi Britannia would hang for his crimes, and Britannian society _would_ change forever. It only sickened the princess even more as she recalled her father's description of the running of a war.

'_It is but another mundane affair, Cornelia; we keep throwing fresh bodies until the other side runs out, and then we bury them all and forget it ever happened,' _the insufferable old man had waved off the question of a six year-old Cornelia casually.

'_You're so damned wrong, you old bastard, I wish that I could've shot you myself, right then and there,'_ she growled darkly in her head. _'And while I probably won't be able to_ show_ you how wrong, I can still sure as hell make you pay for all of the wrongs that you've done, and all of the innocent lives that you've thrown away.'_

**2358 hours  
>Government Bureau Broadcasting Center<strong>

"Are we ready yet?" Lelouch asked impatiently from behind the podium.

"Third seconds, Mister Lamperouge," the Britannian BBC broadcaster, Diethard Ried replied calmly. He had approached Lelouch once the complex had been secured, and after a long, slightly obsessive rant on 'documenting the men who were changing the world', had requested permission to imbed himself with BPG frontline units as a reporter. After the extensive schpiel, Lelouch had hurriedly replied, "Yes, now shut the hell up and get behind that camera."

Rai waited in the wings, the new lone star of Brigadier glinting on his shoulders and lapels. Euphemia was also present, albeit for moral support more than anything; she said that she was never cut out for televised appearances or public speaking.

Diethard started counting down, and went silent for three, two, one…

"**People of the world!" **Lelouch started grandly, sweeping his arms up in a dramatic gesture, **"I bring you the final words which shall spark the revolution!"**

"**For on this white Christmas Eve, the sovereign nation of New Japan has been liberated from the clutches of the tyrannical Britannian Empire! Cornelia li Britannia has fled, and Japan is free once more!"** Ringing cheers could be heard throughout the building.

"**Which brings us to the final ultimatum… To the people of Britannia: As we speak, the militaries of the world have assembled great fleets, and wait mere miles from your shores. Your choices are as follows: Surrender Emperor Charles zi Britannia, or see your country destroyed before your eyes, and all that is precious to you and your way of life **_**completely obliterated**_**. You have twenty-four hours to comply before the first shots are fired."** The transmission was then predictably preempted by the mainland Britannian BBC's reports of warship sightings off of all major coastal areas.

Lelouch dropped his face into his palm, leaning on the podium wearily. Euphie stepped up and placed a hand gently on his shoulder, which he covered with one of his own.

"It's done," she said softly, giving a matching smile, "It's all done."

"I wish it was done, Euphie…" the teenager muttered sadly, "And I know I promised you that it would be – but I can't just let this rest. He has to die, and I have to be the one to do it."

Her smile dropped, and her eyes grew teary. "But… But why does it have to be _you_? Why can't you have someone else do it? Have Rai do it, for God's sake!"

"I'll do it, too!" Rai piped up from backstage.

"No… I'm the one who started this war. I made the statement, I fired the shots that were heard around the world; it's only right that I be the one to finish it." He straightened up and checked his gear. "At midnight on New Year's Eve, Charles zi Britannia will be dead, and the Britannian people will truly be free. But first, I have to work by way up the chain…" He stared off into the distance, mumbling to himself incomprehensibly.

Euphemia shook her head sadly, a few stray tears slipping down her cheeks. But then, she nodded slightly. "I… I think I understand. But please, just… Come back to me."

Lelouch smiled warmly and stroked her cheek softly, wiping away the salty drops. "Always," he said softly, pressing a light kiss to her lips. He then made for the exit, stopping only to pull out a sealed envelope and shove it into Rai's hands. "Your final marching orders," was all he said before rushing out.

The confused Japanese teen unsealed the envelope as Euphemia also departed. The first item was a letter. It looked as though it had been edited within the last month or so, as the statement of address and several scattered words and phrases had been run over with white-out and rewritten.

**(Rewritten elements are in bold.)**

* * *

><p><em>To <em>_**Brigadier General Rai Uzuki**__, Japan Branch, Schwartze Panzergruppe_

_The following is something akin to my last will and testament with the organization. If I have recently shoved this letter into your hands, then chances are, __**Rai**__, I'm going on one last mission. _

_Charles and the Britannian government are my final tests as a specialist. I will be completely incommunicado following the delivery of this document, so just don't bother trying; you're just wasting international minutes and data on your phone. _

_I will be taking: one (1) L96A1 sniper rifle with attaché S2 suppressor; one (1) HK M416 CQB-type assault carbine with attaché S2 suppressor; one (1) Walther P99 pistol, internally suppressed; and fifty thousand (50,000) Britannian pounds, hard currency. These are all that I will likely be utilizing in the following week. _

_In my absence, you, __**Rai Uzuki**__, shall be directing BPG operations in this theater. Following the completion (or failure – overconfidence breeds carelessness) of my mission, this change will be made permanent._

* * *

><p>Rai read through the last sentence several times to ensure that it was there; he then read the note that was attached to the bottom.<p>

* * *

><p><em>That's right, Rai. Once I'm gone, Japan is your playground. But play nice with your local friends, eh? And remember – the BPG always comes first, but that's not to say that Japan isn't in consideration. <em>

_Take care,  
>Lelouch Lamperouge<em>

_**Semper Vigilans, my friend.**_

* * *

><p>The poor shocked teen was shaking in complete surprise. He fell flat on his ass and leaned back against the wall, the letter still clutched in his right hand. He smacked himself – once, twice, three times; it was all still there.<p>

"This is it…" he whispered in awe, chanting it in growing volume until he was back on his feet and crying out in sweet triumph, "I'VE DONE IT! BY THE NAME OF KAMI AND ALL THAT IS JUST, I'VE SUCCEEDED!"

His ultimate dream was complete; despite the subsequent repetitive and vehement denials of the government, he all but controlled Japan. All he needed now was to get up the guts to give Kallen the ring that had made its home in his left thigh cargo pocket, and everything would be right with the world.

**0300 hours  
>Government Bureau Observation Platform<strong>

The top level of the complex was a fortified three-hundred and sixty degree observation platform, also doubling as an artillery station during the siege. The Britannians had left the big guns, which the GSDF was only too happy to confiscate afterwards.

A central ring of floodlights illuminated the area, although visibility was slightly hampered by the furious snow storm that whipped about around the scrambling occupants. The retractable ceiling panels had been jammed open by the area's previous occupants, but Japanese engineers were working tirelessly to seal it in with tarps over heavy netting.

With the raging gusts reduced to mild flurries by the preliminary layer of netting, Katase stood watching over Tokyo Bay, with Ishitora, Takao and Tohdoh at his back, anxiously waiting.

None of these men were naïve by any standards; they fully realized the situation at hand, and the decision that Japan's only five-star general had to make. They were all equally qualified, if perhaps in different time periods – after silently pondering, the three men had unanimously and wordlessly concluded that it was anyone's game.

Adjusting the fur lining on his winter jacket, Katase turned slowly, tiredly, to face his three most trusted officers.

Kyoshiro Tohdoh – Kiseki no Tohdoh, the Miracle Maker of Itsukushima.

Ishitora Misato – Ishitora Tensai, the unsung genius.

Takao Yamashiro - Isshokusokuhatsu no Yamashiro, the hair-trigger super soldier, and Japan's liberator of Tokyo.

'_Dammit, I hate my job!'_ "I've made my decision," the eldest general declared stonily. The trio before him perked up imperceptibly, their collective breaths hitching within their windpipes.

"_**My sanctioned successor shall be…"**_

He never finished his statement, as a single sniper's bullet passed cleanly through the back of his head – General Katase Tatewaki died on the spot, at 0302 hours on Christmas Morning.

Several Britannian-sympathetic dissident groups, along with a handful of private military companies would attempt to lay claim to the kill; and while all were brought in by Japanese authorities and silenced ruthlessly, the true culprit would never be discovered. Soon after this occurrence, the Japan Self-Defense Forces' high command would be thrown into a cutthroat frenzy, where many would be discredited, humiliated, or even outright assassinated in their quest for control of arguably the most famous military force in the world.

Years later, when close friends and family would finally locate the retired Lelouch Walther-Lamperouge, none would make the connection to the shell casing that hung around his neck – two of them, actually. One was engraved with a cross and a crown, and wrapped in a miniaturized Britannian flag; the other, more nondescript casing was engraved with two symbols of Japanese Kanji.

**片瀬**

**Translation – Katase.**

**End Act III**

* * *

><p><strong>End Note:<strong> Epilogue to follow. _Semper Vigilians_, Latin for Always Vigilant, is the motto of the United States Air Force Auxiliary Cadet Program, the Civil Air Patrol.


	14. Epilogue

_**Timeline of the Third World War**_

_Primary Instigator – Holy Britannian Empire_

_First Successful Rebellion – New Japan_

**7****th****-8****th**** September, 2017 –** _Arguably described as the 'shot heard 'round the world' for first resistance against Britannia. One company of soldiers from the Japan Liberation Front engages Britannian forces at the Lake Kawaguchi Resort, and escapes with the aid of sympathizing countrymen and a lone mercenary._

**21****st**** September –** _Vicerene-General of "Area 11", Cornelia li Britannia, attempts to raid JLF home base in the Hida Mountain Range; she is soundly defeated by superior opening strategy, and infantry training and tactics. _

**28****th**** September –** _Second Battle of the Hida Mountains. Despite better planning and strategy beforehand and during the battle, Britannian forces are once more pushed out of the area. Later on this same day, Black Panzer Group representative Lelouch Lamperouge calls for open war against the Britannian Empire. Japan Maritime Self-Defense Force vessels create a blockade around the country, stopping all Britannian military traffic into its territory. _

**10****th**** October – **_The Germanic State Military expels the last remnants of Britannian resistance from its borders._

**16****th**** October –** _The EU's interim spokesman, President Wilhelm Walther, globally condemns Britannia, and calls for all nations to launch a full counterassault. _

**25****th**** October – **_Russian Federation Armed Forces rise up across Siberia, and push Britannian forces back into the North Pacific and the Arctic Ocean; Prime Minister Mikael Nikanor motions to invade mainland Britannia._

**3****rd**** November –**_Israeli and Hellenic naval forces launch a joint strike against Royal Britannian Navy concentrations and fortifications at the Suez Canal, which is captured and reopened shortly afterwards by the Egyptian Army. _

**13****th**** November – **_India declares independence from the Chinese Federation, alongside Afghanistan and Pakistan; when Chinese forces are deployed to restore order, they are quickly and efficiently repelled by a series of guerilla attacks by the reformed Afghan Mujahedeen. _

**20****th**** November – **_The Royal Australian Navy launches a task force to support the BPG's liberation of several Indonesian islands from Chinese and Britannian control. _

**1****st**** December – **_A Japanese guerilla group launches a direct assault on the Royal Britannian Army base at Tokyo, managing to cripple a large portion of Britannia's Japan fighting strength in the process._

**2****nd**** December – **_Royal Britannian Navy base at Luzon is attacked, crippling RBN Taskforce 374._

**3****rd**** December – **_Second Prince of the Holy Britannian Empire, Schneizel el Britannia, is captured en route to mainland Japan, while the rest of his thirty-ship taskforce is crippled or destroyed – all by four submarines._

**7****th**** December – **_Taizo Kirihara, official head of Area 11's Nation Advisory Council, is found dead within illegal meeting facilities in the Fuji Sakuradite Mines. Later the same night, a freighter is intercepted leaving the country, carrying nearly a billion yen in munitions, equipment, and refined Sakuradite; the vessel, suspected to be the escape ship of the remaining five NAC officials, detonated shortly after inspection, damaging or scuttling several JMSDF naval vessels. _

**10****th**** December – **_Two of the missing NAC representatives, Kaguya Sumeragi and Suzaku Kururugi, appear on a televised broadcast, declaring the rest of their fellows dead and announcing the dissolution of the National Advisory Council, as well as giving their full support to the Self-Defense Forces and the Black Panzer Group. The same day, the Britannian Siegfried Line around Kanto Block falls for the second and last time, and the BPG marches directly on Tokyo. _

**23****rd**** December – **_BPG and GSDF forces make first contact with Britannian forces within Tokyo proper, and engage in heavy urban warfare; the outer ghettos fall quickly, and a short-lived war of attrition begins in the western areas of the Settlement. _

**24****th**** December – **_Final Battle of Tokyo begins in earnest. At the same time, the largest joint naval task force in military history launches from Australia, with the navies of several countries represented. A slightly smaller group launches from Morocco with the same purpose – standby for an invasion of all areas of the Britannian continents. Back in Japan, Britannian forces are repelled just before midnight; BPG Japan representative Lelouch Lamperouge calls for the capture of Charles zi Britannia within twenty-four hours, or an invasion would be launched against Britannia. _

**25****th**** December – **_98__th__ Emperor Charles zi Britannia is officially deposed by his second daughter, Cornelia li Britannia, who assumes the throne as 99__th__ Empress; Charles disappears into the far north of North Britannia, and is pursued by nearly every military force in the world._

* * *

><p><strong>Special News Bulletin – December 27<strong>**th****, 2017**

_Today at 9:45 AM, Britannian Central Time, tragedy strikes North Britannia. Several nuclear devices are detonated along the border between central Britannia and the territories of Canada, effectively sealing off the north, and killing over sixty million in the process – fallout casualty figures continue to rise steadily over thirty million. _

_This disaster is said to have been caused by dissidents in league with Charles zi Britannia and his loyal court, who remain at large north of the affected area. The military task groups searching for him are called off by the reinstated NATO and the United Nations, being refitted instead to aid those survivors within Ground Zero and the surrounding areas._

* * *

><p><strong>30<strong>**th**** December  
>Manning, British Columbia<strong>

Charles sat silently on a folding chair in the old shack, looking out over the few that remained with him.

He had left with one hundred; ten had been killed by the nuclear blasts, and ten more by the fallout. Twenty had died from their winter trek, and attacks by the unfriendly locals; fifteen had been killed in various ways by an unknown assassin, who even now was probably trailing them. Forty-five was still a safe number, but for how much longer?

A child of barely seven, the son of one of the nobles, meandered over and looked up at Charles nervously. "Your Majesty… what do we do now? Will we make it?"

Charles sighed wearily, some of his age slipping through for a moment. "I don't know, child," he admitted, resting a hand on the boy's head; a small part of him waned as the boy flinched in fear from his touch.

A series of explosions rocked the shack, drawing the attention of everyone within. Only thirty were inside; the other fifteen were on guard duty for the night. No doubt that attack had gotten most of, if not all of them.

The single bare bulb which provided light for the room went out; mothers ushered their children into the single adjacent room in the shack, locking the door once all were in.

The front door was flung open, and a hail of lead poured in; twenty people were killed on the spot with as many bullets.

Charles sat motionless in his chair, his head bowed low in resignation. He glanced up once to get a glimpse of his killer's face, and he chuckled humorlessly.

"At least you were able to deliver on your promises, unlike me."

"Are you repentant?" Lelouch asked tonelessly, his P99 out and aimed at the Emperor's head.

"Perhaps subconsciously; but otherwise, no. My only regret is that I was unable to fulfill my goal of uniting the world."

"I'm not going to preach to a dead man, so I'll simply say… Your unity was false." A shot rang out, and Charles slumped further, until he fell to the bare dirt, stone-cold dead.

Lelouch set about the arduous task of bagging all of the bodies, and once complete, he let out the remaining children. He ushered them into one of the cargo trucks, and once all of the bodies were gathered in the second one, he motioned to the local driver, who took off behind him to the airport.

TSA never once asked what was in the bags once they saw the crest.

* * *

><p><strong>31<strong>**st**** December – **_At Midnight on New Year's Eve, the bodies of Charles zi Britannia and his conspirators are dropped at Cornelia's doorstep in Pendragon, with a silver vulture pendant attached to each canvas body bag; a few surviving children accompany the bags, and are released to scattered orphanages. Local celebrations increase tenfold, and minutes later, Lelouch Lamperouge releases an early military retirement statement; none are able to locate him until years later. _

**1****st**** January, 2018 – **_The European BPG is absorbed into the Germanic State Military, leaving the East Asian branches as an autonomous sect; with Lelouch retired, command falls to his second, nineteen year-old Rai Uzuki, who selects Shi Sugiyama as his second, Jeremiah Gottwald as his Public Relations officer, and Gilbert Guilford as the commander of the training battalions._

* * *

><p><strong>January 22<strong>**nd****, 2018  
>Kabul, Afghanistan<strong>

The rebel security officers at Kabul Air Field let out a series of cheers as an F-15SE and an F-2A touched down on the strip. The pilot of the Eagle stood in his cockpit and waved before jumping down and being greeted by the rebel commander.

"We cannot thank you enough for your support, Cipher," the middle-aged Afghan shook his hand enthusiastically. "What can we ever do to repay you?"

Cipher smiled from under his hood. "Just give me enough fuel to make it to South Africa and we'll call it even."

"And who is that man that you're with?" the rebel gestured to the F-2, where the pilot was shouting directions to the mechanics in fluent Pashto.

"Oh, he prefers to remain anonymous," Cipher replied airily, "But if you feel like putting a name to a face, just call him Crow." Said man looked over to Cipher and gave him a thumbs-up, signaling that everything was in order. "Take care, Emal."

"And you as well, my friend; you'll always be welcome among my people." Cipher nodded gratefully and meandered over to Crow's plane, where the man (also hooded) was perched on the edge of his cockpit.

"Are we ready to go?" his counterpart asked quietly.

"Ah, we might stick around a bit," Cipher drawled back, trying to get a rise out of the slightly younger man. Crow just shook his head and smirked a bit.

"Fine then, I guess I'll just have to take the South Africa contract for myself…" he swung his legs back into the cockpit, but stopped when Cipher's limited visage had shifted into a frown.

"Now that's just not even funny, man."

"Aw, lighten up, Cipher!" Crow mocked brightly, "It's just money! You already have plenty, what's a bit lost, huh?"

"… I should shoot you for that."

"You should've shot me over Chiba if you were looking to kill me." The two men then exchanged knowing grins, and Cipher jogged back to his plane. Minutes later, the pair was just out of their take-off rolls, and Crow dropped his hood with a sigh.

"I should go see Reiko…"

* * *

><p><strong>February 2<strong>**nd****, 2018  
>Tokyo, New Japan<strong>

Takao groaned as his aide delivered another foot-high stack of papers to his desk, the young man smiling sheepishly and apologetically as she stepped out.

He had just managed to come out on top in the succession race. After Katase's immediate funeral, the entire chain of command had gone to hell in a hand basket trying to figure out who would take over as supreme commander of the Japan Self-Defense Forces. In the subsequent month, Tohdoh had lost his left arm to a car bomb, Ishitora had one leg broken and the other mangled and later amputated when his desk spontaneously detonated, and Takao himself had several fresh new scars across his chest and back, as well as one glaring slice across his nose, complementing the one on his cheek.

Several more brass had taken injuries of varying severity; two colonels, a brigadier, and a lieutenant-general had been assassinated in similar gruesome manners. But in the end, Takao had emerged victorious; the price was a bit obscene, since it meant that the military would be fairly inactive for the next year or so while _those_ positions were fought over, but it was a victory nonetheless.

Tohdoh had shown wisdom beyond his years and stepped back from large-scale command; he had taken over a National Guard training facility outside of Kyoto, and had fortified it to the point that neither 'friend' nor foe could come extensively close.

Ishitora had given up and retired altogether on merit; he was holed up at a modest home on Yoron Island, and witnesses _swore_ that they would see him playing golf with Kobayashi Yamata every morning.

The problem with this declaration was that Kobayashi had passed away from illness a week after Schneizel's capture.

'_Not my problem,'_ Takao had immediately and viciously pushed aside the report, trying to remove it from his mind altogether; the last thing he needed right now was to deal with a wild ghost chase.

On a more personal note, he had been dating Cecile for over a month now. She had taken over general command of the R&D department, while Lloyd had taken up his own separate branch, generally referred to as the "Mad Scientist's House of Dreams". Several of the ideas he produced were actually relatively useful, but he mostly catered to his own little whims regardless.

Takao was fine with that; the man's entire budget came from Schneizel's spare coffers, and there was definitely plenty to spare.

"General Yamashiro, the latest military policy issues."

Now if only he could get his hands on a flamethrower…

* * *

><p><strong>February 9<strong>**th****, 2018  
>Sapporo, Hokkaido<strong>

"He never mentioned the paperwork…" Rai whined, watching another stack be dropped on his desk by Kallen.

"He always was a conniving little bastard, that Lamperouge," the redhead agreed, "And while he could finish the work, no one ever really _wants_ to."

Supreme Commander of the Black Panzer Group certainly came with perks – and drawbacks, one of which was exhibited here.

On the bright side, Rai had finally mustered up the courage to propose to Kallen, and on New Year's Eve no less. Their wedding was to be in the western style, and was scheduled for next month.

For now, he was stuck with all of the damnable paperwork.

* * *

><p><strong>March 22<strong>**nd****, 2018  
>Strausburg, Germany<strong>

It was finally done. Wilhelm Walther had received a unanimous vote from the German cabinet, and Germany was once more an independent nation, leaving the EU without a center for gathering; the assembly would be in complete chaos as each member nation fought for the right to host the symbolic center of gathering.

To add to the confusion, Norway, Sweden, Finland and Russia had followed Germany's example, completely cutting off the EU from the North Sea and its scattered Arctic investments. Companies from all five new nations had also withdraw the rights to their war machines, leaving the European Union without legal usage of Russian ground vehicles, the new Scandinavian fighter aircraft, and Germany's Panzer Hummel and Leopard MBT. The United Kingdom, France, Spain and Poland were scrambling to compensate, but should another conflict arise, the EU as a whole was dead in the water.

Wilhelm Walther honestly couldn't care less about his neighbors. He and his brother controlled one of the strongest countries in the world, which was capable of defending itself as such. Right now, he just wanted to have some measure of peace for himself and his family.

His undisputed favorite nephew had completely disappeared; there was no way he was dead, if the occasional, seemingly random assassinations that kept popping up were any indication. Regardless, it was still troubling.

His niece, Nunally, had been returned to Germany to live with her father, and the two had fallen into mild seclusion at Tyler's home outside of Hammelburg. While Wilhelm and their middle sibling, Emma, were anxious to see the pour girl, they knew enough to give the two their time.

He sighed wistfully and clicked the intercom. "Anna, is there anything on my agenda for the afternoon?"

"_Nothing that I can see, Mister Walther."_

"Good. If anyone needs me, I'll be out hunting."

* * *

><p><em><strong>And so, life goes on. The world maintains its usual shaky, tentative peace, with occasional skirmishes and peace-keeping missions to "third-world" countries. Nuclear fallout that reaches the atmosphere clouds the skies over Britannia, setting in long winters and cold summers. The effect is lessened with the aid of several technological advancements of neutral countries. As a whole, though, the following time is unremarkable. <strong>_

_**The countries of South Britannia secede from the Empire in late 2018, and become separate nations of South America, as they were meant to be. Middle Britannia becomes Mexico and its southern neighbors and eastern islands in 2019. Canada is dropped as a Britannian protectorate in 2020, as is Alaska, which is quickly seized as a joint protectorate of Japan and Russia.**_

_**Extensive pressure from the United Nations forces Britannia to majorly abolish the superiority of the monarchy, instead becoming a relatively stable democracy by 2022.**_

_**Many of the major players of the Third Great War have disappeared from the eyes of the populace. Where are they now, you ask? Well, most of them maintain the positions which were just described. Cornelia remains as the figurehead monarch of Britannia, whilst doubling as its supreme military commander. **_

_**But what about sweet little Euphemia? Or the ever-eccentric Camilla Ashford? And what happened to Schneizel and Kanon?**_

_**Well…**_

* * *

><p><strong>October 3<strong>**rd****, 2024  
>Kodiak Island, Semi-Autonomous Territory of Alaska<strong>

"Looks like winter is already setting in," Kanon commented from the kitchen, where he was in the midst of finishing dinner.

"Yes, the fallout drifted north on the Jetstream and set in partly over the Arctic," Schneizel agreed nonchalantly as he watched the snow fall heavily outside. A mug of coffee was clenched in one hand, and a small sheaf of bills in the other. "We should place our Sakuradite order for the winter while we still have PFD money to spend."

"We have plenty of wood," Euphemia shook her head as she walked in, shaking the snow from her coat and hanging it on the hook beside the door, "And Lelouch just cleaned the fireplace; it will last with little problem."

"Besides," Milly added as she came out of the bathroom, "Little Alex loves roasting marshmallows over the fire."

Six year-old Alex Lamperouge nodded furiously in agreement, his sparkling green eyes crushing Schneizel's resolve. "Oh alright," the blond man conceded with a dramatic sigh, "We'll save the money." He ruffled the boy's black hair affectionately, "And I'm assuming that you want something out of it?"

"CANDY!" the boy cheered, eliciting laughs from those in the room. A five year-old girl with short blond hair and violet eyes waddled out of her room, rubbing her eyes tiredly.

"What about candy?" she asked, looking up at the adults with an adorably drowsy yawn.

Milly kneeled and snatched up her daughter, "Oh, you and your brother are going to be getting a treat very soon," she cooed softly, rocking the sleepy girl in her arms. All heads snapped up as another voice called out from the door.

"Try _very_ soon!" Lelouch laughed, setting his swampers on the dryer and kneeling in the entryway to catch up his two children, who ran at him with twin cries of 'Daddy!'

"Good end of season?" Kanon called out as he set the plates at the table.

"Yeah, it's a pretty solid haul," the younger man nodded, shedding his heavy coat and placing his cap on a hook, "But we almost got into a brawl with some rather jealous crabbers; apparently their ships are going to be iced in for the first month of the crab season until the Navy can clear out their lanes. We were apparently the last successful boat of the fall season."

"At least we have fuel money for the winter, then," Schneizel sighed in relief, "It's shocking how far gas prices have skyrocketed with all that the North Slope platforms produce."

"Damn Russians won't let us set up refineries for ourselves," Milly grumbled.

"Well, electric vehicles should set in soon," Euphie shrugged nonchalantly, plopping down on the sofa and brushing a strand of her bright pink hair aside. Alex made his way over and climbed into her lap.

"Ah, how I miss the days of unlimited fuel privileges," Lelouch sighed wistfully, "All you had to do was walk around with a rifle in your hands and you had free gas."

"Spoken like a true career soldier," Kanon grunted amusedly.

"You're one to talk."

"Never said I didn't agree."

"So how was your date with _Sarah_, Schneizel?" Lelouch turned with a knowing grin to his half-brother-in-law.

"Oh, it was quite nice," Schneizel replied, unwilling to allow his brother to get a rise out of him.

"Really? I heard you both fell into the river when the fish decided to fight back."

Dammit, he won this round. "I-I…" the blond man stuttered embarrassedly, flushing slightly. Even Kanon laughed at this discovery.

"Aw, don't beat yourself up," Euphie laughed, "It's moments like those that make a good relationship last."

"Samantha, Alex – go ahead and wash up for dinner," Lelouch motioned. The two children ran into the bathroom. "I think Rai might've found us," he then declared tonelessly.

Silence prevailed as the gravity of the statement struck the room. "… Do we have to move again?" Milly asked quietly.

"Nah, I like this place," Lelouch replied cheerily, shattering the atmosphere. "I figure we'll just hang out and see if they really find us or not. And besides, I still have authority to swear Rai to secrecy."

"If you're sure…" Euphie sighed uncertainly. Lelouch meandered over and flopped down on the couch beside her, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders. Milly - never one to be left out of a moment - scrambled to his other side and slung his free arm over her own shoulders. Lelouch chuckled and pulled them both close, while Schneizel and Kanon suppressed envious sighs.

"The worst he could do is bring my dad," he laughed lightly. He then stiffened as a knock came at the door.

"_**LELOUCH!" **_a grainy, masculine voice boomed. The twenty-five year-old hurriedly grabbed his coat and hat and threw open the bay window on the opposite side of the house, barreling straight out of it without a second thought. A scuffle was heard, moments before he came flying back inside, covered in snow. Euphemia sighed and moved over to the fireplace, lighting it up to try and dry out the carpet.

Tyler and Rai clambered in through the open window, closing it as they came through. "Sorry about the carpet," Rai scratched his head sheepishly. The pair moved over to the entryway and shed their winter clothing before resuming accosting poor Lelouch.

"_SIX YEARS AND YOU CAN'T EVEN BE BOTHERED TO CALL, OR WRITE, OR __**ANYTHING?!**__"_ Tyler was shaking his son by the collar. He froze as the children emerged from the bathroom, and a silent stare-down ensued; they then charged at him shouting happily, forcing him to drop Lelouch and scoop them both up.

"GRAMPA!" they cried out, hugging him tightly. Tyler hugged them both happily, but with a bit of confusion.

"How did they know who I was?" he asked Milly, who shrugged.

Samantha replied, "You're old, and you have daddy's eyes!"

Silence… Inevitable laughter.

All was right with the world.

* * *

><p><strong>The End<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Parting Notes:<strong> I'm happy that I got it done, and at the same time sad to see it go… More motivation to make those spinoffs, I suppose.

The thing that I truly love about this story is how it simply _flowed_ for me. There was never any honest writers' block; it was just a pause in which to figure out how best to phrase something.

Yes, it was heavy on the technical aspects; I was enthusiastic, and after all of the great constructive criticism, I know to lighten up on it next time.

* * *

><p>I'd like to now recognize all of my wonderful reviewers, regardless of the intent of their messages, who presented their feedback during the process.<p>

**EVA-Saiyajin**

**Shin'en of the Chaotic Destiny**

**Sir Punchula**

**Knightmare Gundam of Ni **(He's a good buddy of mine; I'd like to thank him especially for all of his support and assistance.)

**Atrile**

**Dirac Blade**

**Century Exai**

**Sunzi**

**AXL999**

**scottusa1 **(Big old thanks to you too, buddy. Hope you liked Rai!)

**Ominae**(-senpai; his story, Lost Soldiers, was a big inspiration to me. Check it out!)

**Guest(s)** (all of you; Ominae was actually one of them.)

**Muledragon** (Sorry to hear that you dropped it; but regardless, your criticism was invaluable to me.)

**karthik9**

**Sheng** (a guest who actually used a name – thanks for that. Helps me ID people easier.)

**Sieben Nightwing**

Not a big list, I know, but each and every one of you was great for offering your words. I hope to see you all within my future stories.

* * *

><p><strong>Disclaimers (Better late than never, eh?):<strong> I do not own Code Geass, Ace Combat, or any abridgements, spoofs, games or shows that might also have been referenced or mentioned herein. I do not own any of the national military organizations or weapons designs, barring a few.

My personal intellectual properties include: the Raikou-Nii cannon (mentioned sparsely in passing); Heavy Assault Burai; Type-11A tank; Type-10B tank; the Black Panzer Group (and all of its members therein); and I only partially own Lelouch Walther-Lamperouge. I guess he's sort of like a step-OC, since his character concept is from Sunrise and CLAMP, while part of his parentage and most of his history are my own designs.

ArcLight is an experimental missile program that is currently in research and development by the U.S. Department of Defense and Department of the Navy.

The ADFX-02 Morgan and all associated weapons and equipment are from the game _Ace Combat_.

… I'm trying to think of anything else within that might be mine. Meh, it'll come to me; you may or may not be able to identify everything yourselves.

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><p>A shout-out goes to my good friend <strong>Grimdivide<strong>, who also contributed feedback in the writing process; **Grim**,** Ni** and I are sort of a troublesome triad, sort to speak.

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><p><span>... I think that's everything. <span>

**Oh, I'll be putting up a poll on my profile to help decide what idea I should work on next**.

Though it'll probably be my promised Demons of the Mist spinoff/revision, a Naruto fanfic. 

… I think I'm honestly still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that this thing is finished. I achieved a lot of personal milestones in this bad boy, so… It's definitely my Fanfiction pride and joy.

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><p><strong>Live 'till it hurts, stay in school, don't drink and drive, don't do drugs, and most of all... <strong>

**KEEP READING FANFICTION!**

_**Signing out,**_

_**Knightmare Frame Razgriz**_


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